First Class Mutated
by Sandyswrite
Summary: AU-Switched Powers. As Erik struggles with differentiating reality from fantasy, his hunt for Schmidt leads him to a group of mutants: Charles Xavier (a shapeshifter who secretly fears what he is), Raven Darkholme (a lonely girl who can absorb energies), Hank McCoy (an optimistic genius who controls wind), and Alex Summers (a metalbender on the run from the law).
1. Chapter 1

**WARNINGS: Language, Violence, Mentions of Torture (of a child!), Character Death (NOT the character you think)**

**PAIRINGS: one-sided Raven/Hank, otherwise gen**

* * *

**Hey guys,**

**I'm still working on "The Cat," and though I've been procrastinating on "Hawkeye's Mission," I will get that done, too...at some point. :P **

**I've been bitten by the X-Men bug, what can I say? Specifically, I really enjoyed the characterizations of the _First Class_ characters. I thought it would be interesting to see how switching up everybody's powers would affect their psyche/physiology/etc.. **

**While I have this all planned out, I haven't written out all of the chapters yet, so I'm not sure how long it's going to be. And I may change up some stuff in my plan as I write it out (ie- change the pairings, rewrite a scene, etc.), but if that happens I will warn you guys ahead of time. The only thing I know for sure is that there will be no Moira and no CIA-angle; it'll just be the mutants.**

**Hope you guys like this!**

**-Sandy**

* * *

Chapter One

1943

Erik awoke to the feeling of pain in his cheek. Blood was rushing to his head, which was tilted downward at an awkward angle. The rest of his body was sitting up, though he was slumping forward against…some kind of restraints.

Seconds after he returned to consciousness, the voices returned.

_What is so special about this boy?_

_He is finally waking up._

_ Mein Gott…what am I doing here?_

_ Weak Jew. Hit him again._

Erik took a blow to his other cheek, his head reeling upright. Gasping, he blinked rapidly at the blurred figure before him.

_So fragile. Why does Schmidt care about this boy?_

_ Touching this kid is disgusting._

Erik's vision cleared. The figure before him was a young man, his skin as smooth as stone. He had a thick brown moustache and there were tuffs of hair around his ears, but the rest of his head was covered by an odd helmet—a gray helmet that was different from the other SS Officers' headwear. His lips formed a thin line.

Erik tore his gaze away and looked around. He realized he was sitting in a chair, being held upright by officers. The room they were in was actually a stuffy office, dirt seeping through the floorboards.

_Mama?_ The boy thought, but his mental-voice was drowned out by the other voices. The growing chaos in his head made his heart hammer. He gasped and shifted in his seat, only to have gloved fingers claw into his shoulders and arms.

_Disgusting!_

_ Shifty boy. Hold him tighter._

_ Hit the brat again._

Erik flinched, but the hit never came. Of course it never came. The voices weren't real. He was crazy.

"No," the man in front of him said. He pointed at the officer on Erik's left, "you are not crazy. Look."

Erik's face twisted in confusion and doubt. After a moment of hesitation, he did as told and looked to his left. An open-handed palm was inches from his face. When the palm didn't move, Erik's gaze traveled up the officer's arm, the officer's neck, and then to his face; the man was frozen in place.

And the voices were gone.

"You are not crazy, son. You are one hell of a telepath."

A shot of hope and relief twisted through Erik's heart. Almost afraid to believe it, he looked back at the man. "Telepath?" Not _freak_?

The man smiled. "My name is Schmidt. I can help you. And if you let me, I promise, you and your mother will be protected."

Erik's breathing eased, even as he searched Schmidt's face for signs of dishonesty. When he saw none, the boy nodded.

Schmidt's smile widened.

* * *

When the Allied Forces liberated the camp a year later, Erik had been strapped to a table in a dark room. There were so many pins in his head, metal contraptions around his neck—one spotlight blinding him. He was dizzy with exhaustion and hunger.

Reality felt as empty as all of the hallucinations Shaw had him create with his powers. Even as Allied Soldiers freed him from that God-awful table, Erik still didn't believe what he was seeing was real.

They led the boy outside. The day was warm, dust and smoke tainting the air. The front gate had been torn open, and it now laid gnarled on the ground. The rest of the camp was full of trucks, boxes of food, and desperate people tearing into those boxes. The distant buildings outside the camps—the ones the Nazi soldiers would return to—were nothing but black smoke and ash, as were the few trees that had surrounded the buildings.

Erik sat in the dirt, far away from the trampling crowds. He didn't know how to feel or think about this situation—if it was even real—so he just blinked and waited. He didn't bother scratching the grime off his skin.

It could have been hours or seconds later when a bony woman touched his shoulder.

"Are you Erik?" she asked.

He glanced up at her. She was wearing the same white garb as he was, and she had dark hair that reminded him of his mother's. The thought constricted his heart—the first thing he had really felt that day.

She was projecting uncertainty, hope, fear, and grief.

"Yes," he said nervously.

"Son of Edie Lehnsherr?"

"Yes."

She let out a watery breath. "Your mother…she was my friend here and…I am so sorry to tell you this, but she…she's dead."

Ice enveloped Erik's veins. For a moment, he couldn't move—couldn't process her words. Then, before he was fully aware of it, he was delving into her memories…

_The officers are panicking, burning papers, burning down buildings, shooting anyone who gets in their way. Why is this happening? What did we do?_

_ Edie is close by, praying for her family's safety while pressing herself against the rotting wall of our sleeping-room. The shade this small building provides doesn't make her invisible, but I still bury myself against her side and I pray with her—for my own family and for myself. Some of our people join us, but most of them are running away from us—to other hiding spots, I think._

_Her number is called out and she looks up. That's when the shot rings out, and blood sprays out of her head. I scream and jump out of the way, but I can't stop myself from looking back and watching as her lifeless body collapses to the ground._

_ Why did she look up? Why did she have to look up? Why—_

This woman hadn't looked up at the shooter, but the voice who called out his mother's number…it was one of Shaw's men, Erik knew it.

Agony destroyed whatever he had left of his soul. The pain weighed in his blood like a quick-acting toxin, searing into his veins like acid. He screamed, muscles tensing, mind throbbing—

He didn't notice the people around him falling, their brains permanently damaged from his power.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

1953

Charles thought the worst part about puberty would be zits and untimely erections. The blue scales, the dramatic blackening of his hair, and the red eyes…well, that was downright horrifying. His mother was convinced he was dying, so she had doctors poke and prod at him for months; his stepfather and stepbrother were convinced he was contagious, so they kept away from him.

Raven, his adopted sister, was the only who would talk to him.

"Thank you," he said, something he always said when she visited him. He laid in his bed, his body hidden within several layers of clothing. He also wore socks, gloves, and a ski mask. Sweating profusely, he gave his sister a tight smile.

She sighed and grabbed his wrist. "Charles…you don't have to hide from me. It must be a thousand degrees underneath all those sweaters."

He snorted. "A thousand degrees? You should be a weatherman."

"I'm not afraid of you. A little insulted, sure, but not afraid."

He swallowed, his gaze lowering to her hand. "Why?" he whispered.

"Well, you made that weatherman crack when I've been nothing but supportive—"

"You know what I meant."

She let him go and fiddled with her fingers. There was a nervous edge about her now—she was biting her lip, glancing at everything but him, jiggling her leg. When she stood up from his desk chair and backed away, Charles's throat constricted. If he could have spoken in that second, he would have taken back his question, desperate to keep his only friend from rejecting him, too.

"Watch and don't freak out," she said, standing a few feet away from him.

Charles furrowed his brow and sat up. A different kind of fear twisted through his guts, and he found the courage to speak. "Wh—"

"Just watch."

Reluctantly, he closed his mouth.

Raven blew out a long breath, stretching out her left arm while keeping her left palm facing the right. Then she fisted her right hand and punched her palm. A small ripple traveled through her arm.

Charles winced, leaning forward. "Raven—"

"Watch."

He gave her a questioning look, but her own look of determination kept him quiet.

She turned to face the adjacent wall, aiming her right hand at it. A few seconds later, a light ripple traveled through her right arm, coming out of her right hand as a burst of energy that hit the wall. It wasn't a strong hit—it only brushed the dust off the wallpaper—but it was enough to have Charles gaping at his sister in an entirely new light.

Turning back to him, she gave Charles a watery smile and a stiff shrug. "I'm different, too."

For a few seconds, they were both frozen; Charles in shock and Raven in anticipation. Then, before he could stop himself, Charles laughed. Tears soaked into his ski mask, the relief he felt—the acceptance—not being alone anymore…it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Raven was also crying and laughing. Approaching him, she pointed at his head. "Take that damn thing off, Charles."

Shakily, he pulled the mask off. He felt even more relief as his skin immediately cooled. He swiped the moisture off his face, only to feel more tears slide down his blue cheeks.

Raven sat next to him. She tussled his hair and made him choke on his laughter. When he turned to look at her, he didn't see any fear or rejection in her expression, just acceptance…just like she had said.

Despite the fact that he was still wearing several jackets and was hot as hell, he hugged her tightly.

* * *

A few weeks later, Charles shapeshifted for the first time. He woke up on the carpet, his cheek pressed against a genetics book, and each one of his limbs was a different shape, size, and color.

"RAVEN!" He scrambled across the floor. He pushed aside all of the books he had surrounded himself with the night before, slipping across the pages as he did so. Though he couldn't seem to gain much purchase on the ground or walls—or on anything—he managed to grab his door and swing it open. "RAVEN!"

God bless her, she was running through the mansion and to his bedroom in a matter of minutes.

"Charles?!"

"Shut the door," he wheezed, scooting back until he hit the wall.

Raven immediately did as told. When she turned back around and crouched in front of him, he got a better look at her; her eyes were blazing with fear and protectiveness; her hair was a tangled mess; and her large pink robe made her appear round and fluffy.

She was an angel.

"What the hell did you do?" she asked.

"I don't know! I don't know!"

"Okay, okay, calm down."

"Calm down?!"

"Yes, calm down. You need to breathe." She took a deep breath, motioning for him to copy her. "Look, freaky stuff like this is going to happen sometimes. That's part of being different."

"This happened to you?"

"Not _this_, no, but…freaky stuff, yes. Just…whatever you did that made you this way, do the opposite."

"I don't know what I did! I was asleep!"

"Okay." She gave him a stern expression. "Calm. Down. We'll figure this out."

He gave her several shaky nods, taking another long and deep breath. Remarkably, he got himself to relax. He relaxed even further when his sister put a hand on his shoulder.

"Good," she said, smiling. "Now, concentrate on your limbs."

He gawked at her.

"Just try it," she said.

Incredulous, he closed his eyes and _concentrated_ on his limbs. It wasn't long before embarrassment warmed his cheeks. He already wanted to argue with Raven about this, but then something in his brain…it just clicked. He realized he was tensing his muscles—or tensing _something_, anyway—so he loosened them.

"See?" Raven said, her voice cracking in relief and awe.

He looked over himself. The sight of his blue scales had his shoulders sagging with relief. Lowering his face into his hands, he allowed himself a moment to absorb all that had happened, including the irony of actually preferring _this_ blue-scaled appearance for once…something that wasn't as definite as he initially thought.

"I can change my appearance," he whispered. His head shot up. "I can fix this."

"Fix what?"

He ran to his closet and tossed aside various items—clothing, mostly—until he came across his yearbook. He searched through it for his picture. When he found it, he kept his gaze glued to it as he slowly walked back to his sister.

"How did I do that?" he murmured to himself. He observed his black-and-white face in the yearbook, obsessing over every little detail. He tensed his muscles consciously, feeling…something else subconsciously tense…

"Whoa," Raven said. "That's awesome."

"What? What?" He looked over himself again. He no longer had scales but skin…gray skin, but skin nevertheless. He rushed to his mirror and stared at a black-and-white version of himself; he laughed. "This is amazing! Do you know what this means?"

"…No."

Grinning like an idiot, he reached out and grabbed her shoulders. "I can accept my scholarship! I can go to Oxford!"

Raven blinked at him, mouth gaping open. "But…you're black and white."

He thought of his skin pigments, his hair color, his eyes…more tensing….

"Oh," she said. "Nevermind."

* * *

**Yes, I altered the "Mystique-look" a little for Charles. I don't know why, but I really like the black-hair and red-eyes for him. *shrugs***


	3. Chapter 3

**This is a bit of a talky-talk chapter, but it is a nice set-up for when Erik meets Charles and Raven.**

**No, I'm sad to say Erik is not in this chapter. He will be in the next one though! :D**

**And thank all of you guys for reviewing, story-alerting, and/or story favoriting. I really appreciate all of that. :)**

Chapter Three

1959

The manor was quiet, save for the occasional creaks and groans the woodwork made. Dust coated the vases, the large paintings, the sculptures, the mahogany tables, the furniture—hell, even the wallpaper seemed dusty. It looked more like an abandoned museum than it did a home.

Raven dropped her bags in the entryway and took off her hat. Without turning around, she kicked the front door close. With so much of her inheritance spent in the last few years, this place was as close to a home as she was going to get; she couldn't afford to go anywhere else. But at least she had the manor to herself, her adoptive mother being dead and her adoptive father being long gone.

Sighing, she placed her hat on the (also dusty) hat rack. That was when the floor rumbled.

"The hell?" She stared at her feet, which absorbed the abrupt motions. She could _feel_ the origin point of this tiny quake; it was in the underground bunker, below the basement.

She hurried to the basement. It used to be a dark, eerie space—only meant to be a passageway between the manor and the bunker—so she was shocked to discover it well-lit, thoroughly cleaned, and full of strange equipment and machinery. For a second, she remained frozen on the bottom step.

"The hell?" she said again. She scanned the area multiple times.

Voices echoed up from the other staircase—the one that lead down to the bunker. Raven turned toward it, curious and dumbfounded.

"…to measure in open space, but it would be safer."

"Yes, but we were experimenting your control over air pressure, and where you are standing based on the sea level is a significant factor—" Charles trotted up the steps. Alongside him was a tall, disheveled young man with dark hair and thick-rimmed glasses.

"Charles?" Raven said.

His head snapped up. Surprise made his blue eyes flash to red, but only for a second. Then a wide grin brightened his face, making him appear more like an eager child than an Oxford-grad. He quickened his pace toward her. "Raven! What a surprise. How long have you been here?"

She forced herself to walk up and hug him—something she had been wanting to do for a long time. "I just got here. What's going on? What have you been doing? And what is with the accent?" She peered over his shoulder and at the other young man, who was awkwardly toeing the ground. She waved a hand at him. "And who is this?"

Charles laughed, the action reverberating warmth, comfort, and delight. Raven's lips quirked up as her brother patted her back.

Releasing her, he stepped back. "My apologies. I'm being rude."

"Your _apologies_?"

"Yes. Don't look at me like that. I'm speaking proper English."

"My God, you've defected, haven't you? Don't tell me you drink tea now."

"I've always enjoyed tea."

"I'm too late then."

He huffed, his brow crinkling with amusement and bafflement. Raven nearly cracked up at the sight, but held her composure and turned back to Charles's nerdy friend.

"Anyway," her brother said, eyeing her, "Raven, I would like to introduce you to my colleague and friend, Dr. Hank McCoy."

"Doctor?" Raven blurted, eyebrows raising. She observed this _Hank_ in an entirely new light, glancing over his lean body more than once.

Hank blushed, but stood erect at her questioning gaze. "Yes," he said.

"Wait, _colleague_?"

"Yes," Charles said. He hugged his sister again, and Raven _oofed_ in surprise. "Oh, I have so much to tell you! If you would have called once in a bloody while—oh, it doesn't matter now." He moved back while keeping a tight grip on her shoulders. His happiness…he seemed to glow with it. "We're not alone. There are others like us!"

She was scared to hope, so she didn't. "What are you talking about?"

"Mutants!"

"…I beg your pardon?"

"People like us. People who are different—gifted. There were others at Oxford, like Hank."

Again, Raven looked Hank over. Her heart hammered and soared at the same time, need and fear and want twisting through her. Tears, much to her embarrassment, were already starting to fill her eyes.

Charles turned to his friend. "Show her, Hank."

Hank held his hands out in front of him. At first, Raven saw nothing, but she thought she could hear a light breeze nearby. As she was trying to understand how that could be possible, Hank aimed his palms at her, and she felt the light breeze hit her in the face. Startled and tickled, she giggled. When the breeze went away, she looked up and saw Hank smiling at her.

"I would have called you," Charles said, "but you were never in one place for very long."

"It's alright, Charles. I understand."

"Do you? That's wonderful because, now that you're here—well, no, I shouldn't ask you this when you just got home—I'm just so excited and—"

"Charles!" She laughed, shaking herself out of her brother's grip. All of this…it was so surreal…she understood Charles's strange new bliss now; she felt it, too. "Just tell me."

He took a deep breath. "Okay, okay. Hank and I…we met at Oxford—he was just a freshman at the time, but he knew so much more than me about our own people."

"Mutants?" she said. She tried to keep the discomfort and distaste from her tone, but by Charles's crestfallen expression, she knew she had failed.

"I didn't care for the term when I first heard it either, but it grows on you. Trust me. And that's not the point." He took another deep breath. "There were others like us, Raven. Not just in gifted abilities, but in rejection, in fear, in loneliness…they need help, just like when we needed help accepting what we were, so—and this is all Hank's idea—" Charles glanced back at his friend, who blushed again. "We are going to start a boarding school for mutants! It's going to teach them how to control their abilities, how to accept themselves, how to be safe, how to be proud and independent—everything we've ever needed ourselves! What do you think? Is this something you would want to…stay for, for a while, at least?"

Raven scanned the basement again, the equipment and the machinery still not making sense. "So…is this Nurse Frankenstein's Office or something? I don't—"

"We will also try to discover what exactly a mutant can do. Think of how easier my life could have been if I knew right away that I could change form. Discovering our potential is part of accepting ourselves."

She bit her lip. Thoughts of her biological mother's car crash—the twisting of metal, the crunching, the powerful impacts…she always wondered if her powers could have saved her mother, like it saved herself.

And then thoughts of the last few years flooded her mind; the superficial exploration of different countries, the meaningless affairs, the search for anything that would distract her from her growing sense of emptiness.

"I'm in," she said.


	4. Chapter 4

**It has been a loooooong time. My apologies. The only excuses I have is busy-ness and distractions (there are a lot of good X-Men AU fics out there! ;P).**

**Anywho, this is an Erik chapter! Yay!**

**Thank you all for your patience, your reviews, your story-favorites, etc.. I hope you guys like this.**

Chapter Four

1961

Erik kept his face placid, even as his brain ached with the thoughts of every New York City citizen. If he didn't concentrate, all of the mental voices in his head would turn into white noise—something he could easily ignore. However, he refused to do that, for if he did, he would lose his focus on the one mind he was currently hunting down.

He entered a small café, the static sound of Italian music grating on his eardrums. Despite this unpleasantness, Erik was still surprised to find the place empty. He could have sworn he had heard several thoughts in this establishment…and laughter. He had heard laughter.

"Can I help you, sir?" the young barista asked, wiping down the counter with eagerness. His accent was thick with multiple influences—Italian, German, and American, of course.

Erik approached the counter and eyed the young man. "Where is your boss?"

"In the back. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No."

The barista nodded and walked into the back room.

Erik looked over his shoulder. The short tables were toppled over, and the chairs were stacked up against the decaying green walls. The scent of tar was suddenly potent, making his eyes water and his head throb.

Something was off here, but he couldn't—

"Hello?" An older man said, stepping out of the back room and around the front counter. He glanced Erik up and down with a narrowed gaze. "How may I help you?"

Ice encased Erik's torso. The man before him—Julian Stern—was wearing the uniform of an S.S Officer. And despite being at least a decade older than Erik, this man appeared youthful…and happy…loved, fulfilled—full of life and energy; everything a Nazi had no right to be.

"Is everything alright?" Stern asked. His eyes softened. "You look pale."

Rage melted every ounce of coldness in Erik's body, but he managed to keep his posture stiff and motionless. He forced his lips to turn upward in a sinister smile. "Not as pale as you are going to look." He pressed his fingers to his temples, feeling them pulsate as he mentally tore into Stern's mind.

Stern convulsed, hands snapping to his head. "What are you doing?!"

Erik's heart hammered so hard, he thought his limbs were trembling from the strength of it. But he was too worn to be able to tell what was real anymore. He didn't care though. Pushing his fingers against his head, he ripped apart the fragility that was Stern's psyche, making the man scream and bleed from multiple orifices.

"Why won't you fall?" Erik growled, breathless. He stared into the agonized expression of Stern. The expression flashed white, green— "Why won't you die?!"

"Hey!" the young barista called, running out of the back room and crashing against the counter. His eyes were wide. "Hey, watch out, man!"

Confusion tempered Erik's fury for a brief instance before the world jarred out of existence.

Jackhammers roared, horns blared, tires screeched, and Erik was yanked back to the sidewalk by several hands. Gasping, he snapped his head in several directions. His mind was still murky with confusion—and now panic—which affected his vision.

"Hey, man, you okay?"

He forced himself to take a deep breath and focus. Ignoring all of the voices, his recovering eyes swept over his surroundings.

He was standing at the corner of a sidewalk, in front of a crosswalk. The sky was cloudy, casting light shadows over the bustling people and vehicles that crowded the area. A couple of blocks ahead, construction was being done—the scent of tar was indistinguishable. A block behind him, Italian music was playing…in a pizza place he had just walked by.

This was reality. But the café had felt so real.

"Dude, are you okay?"

Erik turned. Standing next to him was a blonde kid, tall and dressed in a leather jacket. The kid's eyes gleamed more with inquisitiveness than concern, though he did have a rather tight grip on Erik's arm.

Erik shook him off, along with a few other _concerned_ people. "Get off me," he said.

"Geez," a woman said, "we were just trying to help. You nearly killed yourself, you know."

Releasing a tight breath, Erik closed his eyes and concentrated…at least, he tried to. His recent hallucination had shaken him more than he cared to admit, and no matter how hard he made his brain pound, he could not get its great gift to work right. Everything was chaotic.

"Damn it." He opened his eyes, jumping when he saw that everyone was crossing the street. Shaking off a familiar fear, he walked across the street as if nothing had happened… as if he hadn't lost focus again. An anxiousness itched beneath his skin, but he made sure to internalize the feeling and use it as an unstable kind of fuel. After a few minutes, his mind was able to home in on Sterns's.

Erik found himself standing in front of a short, worn down apartment building. The bricks that made up its structure were chipped and faded, and most of the windows were cracked. The entire block was in a similar condition—trash littering the streets, pothole-sized cracks in the sidewalks, shady characters hiding in the alleyways.

Erik couldn't help but smile with satisfaction at the sight. This was how a fugitive Nazi should be living.

He entered the building and followed Sterns's thoughts to a room on the second floor. Though he was tempted to kick the door down, he had learned that patience was the best way to approach these kinds of situations. He knocked.

A few moments later, Sterns—wearing sweats and a ratty shirt—opened the door. He blinked at Erik. "Hallo."

Erik returned the German greeting, albeit with more malice. A sharp grin cut across his face. "You don't know what I am, do you?"

Stern furrowed his brow.

Erik kicked Stern in the stomach, forcing the man to collapse on the floor. As he grunted and tried to scramble away, Erik let himself in. "Let me show you." He grabbed Stern by the collar of his shirt and threw him against the wall. Pinning him there with his forearm, he awkwardly rolled up the sleeve of his free arm. Then he showed Stern the tattooed numbers on it.

Stern's eyes widened. "I—"

"You," Erik snarled, "don't get to talk." He tilted his head, making his growing smirk seem all the wider. "But you can go ahead and scream." He telepathically clawed into Sterns's mind.

The man did, in fact, scream.

Erik's waist jutted backward. So focused on his target, he didn't notice this random movement at first. But then his waist jutted back farther and farther. Pulling his attention away from Stern, Erik glanced over himself in confusion. Before he could comprehend what was happening, his waist—by his belt buckle—was yanked to the side, and he fell to his knees. Stern fell to the other side and crawled away.

Erik's eyes snapped to him because, for a second, he thought Stern had done something to him. However, in his peripheral vision, he saw the real culprit standing at the doorway. He turned to him.

It was the blonde kid from the street corner. He had both of his hands out before him, aiming them toward Erik.

For a few seconds, the two stared at one another. Erik was dumbfounded. Sure, he had heard of others having psychic abilities, but since most psychics he had come across turned out to be fakes, he had stopped believing the rumors to be true. But this kid…was he telekinetic? Narrowing his gaze, Erik reached into the kid's mind.

"What are you doing?" the kid—Alex Summers said, his voice wavering. His left foot took a step back.

"Electromagnetism?" Erik whispered. He lowered his hand over his metal belt buckle, the source of what moved him.

Alex swallowed. His arms quivered. "You can read minds? That's your power?" He glanced to the side.

Erik followed his gaze. Stern was laying there, blood coming out of his nose. He was still trying to get away, but he was obviously on the verge of passing out.

Erik, shocked by his new sense of priorities, returned his attention to Alex…this strange kid that was somehow like him. His anger was still there—it was always inside of Erik—but it was weakened by his curiosity.

"I don't want to hurt anybody," Alex said, "but I also don't care if that's what you have to do. I just need your help."

Erik blinked, confused. This was the most absurd and remarkable encounter he had ever had with another person. "My help?"

"You tracked this guy down with your mind, right?"

Erik's brow lowered. "You followed me."

"I need you to help find someone. In return, I'll help you with whatever you want." Alex, once again, looked at Stern. "I'll even help you kill this guy."

Erik stood up. "I don't need your help."

"I can control guns and knives with my mind. No fingerprints. That has to be worth something to a guy like you."

"A guy like me?"

Alex shrugged.

Erik approached Alex at a slow, threatening pace. The kid stood his ground, though he seemed to grow paler with every step Erik took. When they were a couple feet apart, Erik stopped. At this range, he didn't need to focus for Alex's thoughts to flow through him…the kid was bluffing; he had no idea what kind of guy Erik was. Erik said as much.

"A killer," Alex said, defiant despite his fear.

Erik's frown deepened.

"I don't care," the kid said. "I really don't. I just need to—"

"Find your brother."

Alex stiffened. "Yeah. He ran away. He's only—"

"Twelve years old. He's the one who is telekinetic."

"Okay, that's getting annoying."

"You know what else is annoying?" Erik took another step closer, satisfied when Alex lowered his hands and stepped back. "Having some judgmental kid interrupt me from accomplishing a mission he has no understanding of."

"A mission? What are you, a spy?"

Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Turning away, he headed back toward Stern. "Get out of here, kid. I'm busy." His waist was tugged backward again. Erik lowered his head and stared at his buckle. He couldn't help but give an amused huff when he saw that it was being pulled back into his stomach. "I mean it. Don't make me hurt you."

"Don't make me hurt _you_."

Erik snorted, glancing over his shoulder. Alex had his hands aiming toward him again, and he was quivering. "You're not much of a threat." Erik tapped his head for good measure. "And I know you."

Alex sneered before yanking his hands downward.

In response, Erik's waist was pulled downward so quickly that he collapsed to the ground, landing on his chest. In the next instance, the knife strapped around his ankle went flying through the air and toward Alex. He caught its handle.

Erik was torn between feeling outraged and impressed. Standing up, he took off his belt and tossed it aside. "I'm done playing nice."

"I didn't ask you to."

He could make Alex lose consciousness in a second, and Alex knew that, too, given that his brother's abilities were similar. But Erik couldn't bring himself to do it. Before he could fully think it through, Erik got into a fighting stance and silently urged Alex to make the first move.

The kid's eyebrows shot up.

"Well," Erik said, "come on."

Alex narrowed his gaze. Raising the knife, he charged forward.

Erik spun around him and pressed him against the wall—right where he had pinned Stern a few moments ago. Alex struggled, cursing. Erik bent the kid's arm in a painful angle while making sure he didn't lose his grip on the knife. If that knife got out of his hand, Alex could make it fly at Erik.

"What are you doing?!" Alex asked. Embarrassment accented his thoughts. "Just finish it."

"I thought you wanted to prove yourself," Erik said. He couldn't help but be snide, his frustration twisting around his amusement. "I'm disappointed."

Alex struggled some more, growing angrier and more embarrassed. And afraid. His terror was becoming more evident in his body language, as well as in his mind. It made Erik smile. However, before he could comment, he heard police sirens outside the window. Keeping a tight grip on Alex, Erik leaned over and looked out the window. A police car was driving toward their location. He swore when the vehicle parked right outside the apartment building.

"We have to go," Erik said, ripping the knife out of Alex's weakened grip and hurrying over to a now-unconscious Stern.

Alex exhaled heavily. "What are you doing?"

Keeping a tight grip on the knife so Alex wouldn't take it, Erik placed his other hand against Stern's cold, sweaty head. He had to put a lot of focus into Sterns's mind, but after a few seconds, he made the man's heart stop beating.

"Come on," Erik said, hurrying toward the door. "Unless you want to get arrested again."

He strode out of the room, listening as Alex followed him.

"You read minds," Alex snapped. "You couldn't hear someone calling the cops?"

Erik pressed his lips together. He had gotten distracted. Again. He had trained himself to be better than this, but lately…something in his mind was broken. It was an issue he would have to deal with later.

He pushed open the emergency exit door and went downstairs. "Just act calm," he told Alex.

"Why do you care? Are you going to help me?"

Erik shushed him. "When we go outside, don't look at the car. Just look both ways, cross the street, and then walk normally. Understand?"

"Yeah."

They were both quiet as they exited the building and walked several blocks away. Though it was clear no one was chasing them, Erik refused to relax. He kept his mind opened and tried to concentrate harder. No more distractions. No more hallucinations. He couldn't afford to get caught just yet—not with Schmidt still out there somewhere.

"Whatever you're doing," Alex said, quickening his pace so that he was walking beside Erik, "you can use all the help you can get."

Erik ignored him.

"My brother is like you, and even he knows not to blindly walk into busy traffic."

Erik gritted his teeth, remembering the fake café and the fake Stern.

"And I might not be as strong as you," Alex continued, "but I'm also not as insane."

Erik stopped and turned around. There were now in a nicer, busier part of the city, so he couldn't beat Alex. Regardless, it was all he could do not to reach out and strangle him. If Alex noticed this, he didn't show it.

"You could have left me there to get arrested," Alex said. "You didn't. You must be a little interested in my proposal."

"I didn't want you to rat me out," Erik said, keeping his voice low. "For the last time, I will not help you. Leave me alone." He was about to turn, when a devious thought of Alex's penetrated his mind. Erik glared. "If I don't help you, you are going to tell the police about me."

Alex flinched, surprised, but then he nodded.

"Even though that means turning yourself in?"

Again, Alex nodded.

Erik stared this kid down. Again, his emotions were contradicting themselves. All of this was strange and new and…fascinating.

"You're a little bastard," Erik said, the corner of his lip twitching upward.

Alex took out some coins in his pocket. Before Erik could even think to stop him, Alex was making the coins float and spin above his palm. "A useful bastard, you mean."

Erik snapped his hand up and pressed the coins against the kid's palm. "We're in public," he growled. "Don't do that."

"I'm not scared of people."

"It's not about being scared. It's about being smart. Unnoticed." He glanced around. He went still when a nearby person's thoughts were becoming louder and louder—an eager person, moving at a fast pace. She was approaching them.

"Excuse me," a young woman said, panting a little as she jogged up to them.

Erik and Alex turned to her. Alex's discomfort radiated off him, but Erik found himself mesmerized. The more of her mind he read, the more he learned…_Charles, Hank,_ _mutants_…

"My name is Raven," she said, smiling. She looked at Alex. "I couldn't help but notice what you were doing earlier with your change. Do you have a special gift?"

"No," Alex blurted. His body went lax a second later. He jutted his lips out and shook his head. "No, I'm just an average guy."

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed. "It's okay if you are different. I won't judge."

"Well, I'm normal."

"Alex," Erik said, keeping his eyes on the woman. She gave her his attention and smiled at him. "You're like us, aren't you?"

Raven smirked. "If you mean vague, then yes, I guess so."

Erik mirrored her expression. "You have something significant to show us." He gave Alex a pointed look. "We are both interested."

"That's pretty presumptuous of you. Why do you think that?"

"I know it," Erik said. This Raven—her friends and their equipment—could be very useful to him, especially if he truly was going insane. He gave her a wide smile. "I know it because I am a mutant. We both are."


	5. Chapter 5

**Charles and Erik are finally going to meet each other! :D**

**Thank you all for your patience, reviews, story-favorites, etc.. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was really fun to write.**

**Also, just a reminder, there is T-rated language in this.**

Chapter Five

Charles walked out of the kitchen, a warm cup of tea in each hand. He headed toward the lab—former basement—where Hank was currently working on his latest project.

The sound of the front door jostling made Charles stop. His head perked up as his heart raced with eagerness. He had to focus in order to keep his hands motionless, lest he spill the beverages.

A few seconds went by…and nothing happened. He must have misheard. And even if he hadn't, it could have been Raven coming home empty-handed from her usual scouting trips. Again.

Frowning, Charles removed his gaze from the front door and stared at the floorboards. Hank had warned him that finding other mutants would be difficult. The younger scientist claimed that the only reason he met as many as he did—which wasn't many, now that Charles thought about it—was because his mutation was so conspicuous; it had drawn people's attention to him. He had actually never gone out and looked for other mutants before, they always came to him.

The word _conspicuous_ rang in Charles's head. He twisted it into synonymous meanings: visible, noticeable, perceptible, exposed…. Dread settled in his gut. Perhaps…perhaps if he was more like Hank…if he was more conspicuous…exposed…mutants would come to them. Perhaps their school could succeed. Or, failing that, maybe he could at least help Raven find one potential student for it.

It wasn't the first time he had thought about this, but it was the first time that he thought he might actually do something about it. Two years of failure had been hard to endure; he didn't want to endure two more.

True, none of the other mutants back at Oxford thought this mutant school was a good idea—and true, Charles had yet to meet a mutant who looked as strange as he did, but…but he was still a mutant. Or he hoped he was, anyway. He hoped he wasn't some freak amongst another group of people. He hoped there were others like him, someone who could understand his struggles in a way Raven and Hank simply could not.

He swallowed. There was only one way to find out; he had to take action. His stomach rolling, Charles forced himself to relax his muscles. He watched as his blue scales appeared over his fingertips, his knuckles, his wrists, his arms—

The front door jiggled, then opened.

Charles tensed and shapeshifted back to his human-appearance so quickly that his hands jerked, tea swashing out of the cups and splaying across the wooden floor. His face hot, he glared at the mess before him. "Bloody hell." He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. "Raven, you startled—"

His sister stood in the entryway, eyebrows raised at him. However, what really got Charles's attention were the two fellows standing behind her. One of them was a young man, eyeing Charles up and down as if the billionaire was the stupidest creature on the planet. The other one was a bit older, a bit broader, and he was staring at Charles with a stiff, calculating expression. Charles was certain this man was either a bodyguard or an assassin, but he couldn't decide which one it was.

"—me," Charles finished, smiling sheepishly. "Hello, there. I apologize for this rather awkward introduction." He stepped over the puddle of tea and approached them. Ignoring the tightness in his chest, he relaxed his lips into a more charming smile. "My name is Charles Xavier. I'm Raven's brother."

"And clutz-extraordinaire, apparently," Raven said, smirking.

"Yes, thank you, dear."

She snorted, the sound coming out like a choked laugh. "Charles, these are my new friends, Alex and Erik. They're like us."

"Like us?" He was proud that he kept his voice from squeaking.

"Don't be coy, you know what I mean. They're interested in the school. Where's Hank?"

"He's down in the lab." He glanced between Alex and Erik. They could be shady characters for all he knew, but he trusted Raven's judgment. "Please excuse me while I go get him. He will be very pleased to meet you both." He nodded, set the tea cups down on the small table near the door, and then headed downstairs.

It wasn't until he had walked down the last step that he bolted. Joy shook through him, making him laugh and wheeze all at once. "Hank! Hank!"

* * *

The group had settled itself in one of the front rooms. Raven was chatting away, telling a story about a time she used her abilities in Paris, when Charles entered the room with a tray of drinks. Their guests were seated in front of the windows, Erik sitting on the left end of the couch and Alex sitting on the right. Raven and Hank sat on the adjacent couch, closest to the door. Charles walked past them and set the tray on the coffee table. Raven grabbed her cup without pausing her story.

"Long story short," she said, "never make a bet with a mutant." Winking, she took what looked to be a victory-sip from her tea.

Charles restrained himself from reprimanding her—for making bets with strangers, yes, but also for drinking her beverage before her guests could drink their own. Instead, Charles smiled, walked over to the cushioned chair across from his sister, and sat in it. Erik was beside him now, his knee a few inches away from Charles's.

"Forgive my frankness," Charles said, watching as Alex grabbed his glass of soda. Erik seemed determined to remain completely still in his seat, much to Charles's disappointment; he really wanted his new cup of tea, "but I am curious about your interest in this school. What is it you to hope to accomplish with it?"

Alex took large gulps of his drink. Erik glanced at his companion with disgust, but was otherwise dead focus on Charles. "Shouldn't we be asking you that?"

"Yes, but you didn't. Not to my knowledge, anyway." He shrugged good-naturedly. "But it is a fair question, nevertheless. We want to create a safe place where a mutant can be himself without being judged, where a mutant can learn how to use his abilities without being afraid. The problem, if you haven't already noticed, is that it is difficult to find people who don't wish to be found."

Erik's hardened gaze softened with understanding.

"However," Charles continued, the tension within him uncoiling. Admitting to his struggles was never easy, but this time around, everything was going smoothly. He breathed with ease, "to announce our presence and purposes publically might gain the wrong attention."

"More like _too much_ attention," Raven said. "No one wants to deal with the humans' opinions and reactions to a place that is supposed to be 'safe,' as Charles put it."

"Exactly. Not yet, anyway. Not so early in the process."

Erik furrowed his brow and his lips curled downward. He didn't seem upset, but…he seemed a little upset. "You truly think you would reveal your true self to a human?"

Charles straightened. The way Erik had worded that accusation hit closer to home than Charles cared for. Fear jittered through his veins, but his defensiveness turned it into anger. Regardless, he prevented his smile from wavering. "Someday, I'd like to think that mutants and humans could learn to coexist without fear or prejudice. There is so much we—both mutants and humans—are ignorant of because mutants are always hiding who they are and what they know. How can anyone truly understand what they are if others keep significant information from them?"

"What if understanding means little to you? What if you value your safety and privacy more?"

"I'm not advocating that every mutant should reveal himself. I was merely expressing a personal opinion of mine. The purpose of this school is to be safe and private, I assure you."

They stared each other down, though Charles didn't feel like Erik was angry at him. This was just a passionate debate. And the longer Charles met Erik's unwavering gaze, the more he realized how good it felt to have an educated argument with someone. Hank tended to agree with a lot of what he had to say, which was nice in building self-confidence, but it left little room for personal growth.

Hank, as if hearing the treacherous though, grabbed his beverage and took a sip from it.

Charles had to keep his facial muscles in check or he would gawk at his friend's inappropriate behavior.

"Anyway," Raven said, drawing out the word with an uncomfortable tone. She turned to Alex and grinned at him, "what can you do?"

"Raven!" Charles said. Horror spiked through him. "We were just discussing the significance of privacy."

"Charles, they've been here to learn about a mutant school for over half an hour. I'm dying of curiosity."

"That does not give you permission to—"

Alex waved Charles off. "It's okay. I control metal."

Raven's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. That's specific. Are you sure it's only metal?"

"Pretty sure. Wood never did anything I wanted it to."

"Interesting," Hank said. He settled his drink in his lap, his face contorted with thought. "Perhaps your body is ultrasensitive to the earth's magnetic fields."

"What?" Alex said.

"You know, the north pole having a positive electrical charge and the south pole having a negative electrical charge and how that affects metallic—" Hank's mouth hung open for an awkward moment, his expression hesitant. Alex was only blinking at him, but confusion was evident in his gaze. Hank cleared his throat. "Well, that is something we could teach you here."

Raven rolled her eyes, giving Alex a sympathetic smile. "He's basically saying that you're a human magnet."

"Oh," the blonde said. He scratched his head. "Huh. I've never thought about it like that before."

Pride swelled in Charles's chest. "And that would be the purpose of this school. To get you to see yourself in a different light."

Alex nodded, pouting out his lips. Then he turned back to Raven. "What can you do?"

Raven and Hank both showed off their abilities. While Alex was downright ecstatic to witness such gifts, Erik hardly budged. He didn't even flinch. Charles was so focused on him that he didn't initially hear it when Alex asked about his abilities.

Charles went red. "Oh, uh, I shapeshift."

"Get out," Alex said, leaning forward expectantly.

Withholding a sigh, Charles focused on Alex's appearance, tensed his muscles in a particular way, and then—

Alex leaped out of his seat and laughed. "Holy shit!"

Charles sat there, mimicking Alex's appearance. To further demonstrate his mutation, Charles even mimicked the young man's voice. "Holy shit."

That got the room going. Raven and Alex went hysterical with laughter, Hank hid his chuckles behind his palm, and even Erik cracked a smile. Charles tilted his head, reveling in the attention for a while. He decided it was nice.

Once everyone caught their breath and relaxed—Alex settling back into his seat—Charles shapeshifted back to his normal human-appearance. Subconsciously, he rubbed his throat, feeling parched. He frowned when he saw that Erik had yet to take his cup off the tray.

"What about you, Erik?" Raven asked. "What can you do?"

Erik's smile became sharper. "I'm telepathic."

Charles's stomach dropped to the floor. He couldn't move—couldn't breathe—how much did Erik know?

Hank's eyes were owlish. "Thoughts and memories? Or one or the other?"

"Both."

"That's incredible. Are you empathic, as well?"

"No."

"Are able to control it?"

"Yes."

Alex snorted, but when Erik sneered at him, the young man went quiet.

Raven coughed. "Remind me never to play poker with you," she joked, but she was clearly uncomfortable. Charles couldn't remember the last time he saw her looking so pale.

His throat constricted. He was all too aware of his thoughts now—of the memories he didn't want to be seen. He rubbed at his throat again and glanced down at his tea, and then at Erik's untouched beverage.

Realization made Charles stiffen. When he looked up at Erik, he saw that the man was smirking at him.

_You bugger_, Charles thought, tensing the moment he thought it. Luckily, Erik didn't seem offended. In fact, he looked more amused than anything else. With a deliberate slowness, the telepath picked up his cup of tea and took a sip. Charles immediately did the same to his own. His lips spread wide on their own accord. _That's what I get for trying to be polite._

"Charles?" Raven said. "What's with the weird look?"

Charles shook himself and stared at her. "I apologize. I'm…flustered. I have never met a telepath before." He returned his focus on Erik, who was looking smug. "You know, you have yet to answer my first question."

"What I hope to accomplish out of this school?"

Charles blinked, impressed. "Yes."

The amusement vanished from Erik's face. Almost glaring—almost snarling—he said, "I'm looking for someone, and it has come to my attention that I may need some…resources that I do not possess."

Alex glared at him. "He means that he is looking for two people. One of them is my little brother, who went missing after…after an accident."

"He means," Erik said, his tone mocking and venomous, "after his brother destroyed half of his school and injured several people."

"He didn't mean to do that," Alex snapped. He raised his shoulders and clenched his fists. "He just discovered his abilities. He needs help controlling them." Desperation swirled in his eyes. "He's a good kid, and he's scared."

"It's alright, Alex," Charles said, reaching a tentative hand toward him. "I understand. We've all been through what your brother's been through, to some extent."

Alex's shoulders lowered at that, but the blonde didn't look any less distraught. Charles, aware of this, looked at Erik. "And who is the other person you are looking for?"

Erik pressed his lips together.

"Some bad guy," Alex said, practically slamming his empty glass back on the tray. "He won't tell me either."

"Oh," Charles said. "Alright."

Awkward silence fell over them. Charles had hoped Erik would explain more about this "bad guy" he was after, but the he was clearly determined to keep his mouth shut. When Charles realized this, he glanced between Raven and Hank. Both looked as nervous as he felt.

Charles took a long sip of his watered-down tea. Then, clearing his throat, he said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure how you expect us to help you. I mean we will, if we can, but—"

"Hank has a few ideas," Erik said, his voice low.

The younger scientist jumped. "What?"

Erik tapped his temple.

Hank winced. "Oh, right. Well…yes, when you first admitted you were a telepath, a few ideas on how to study your abilities came to mind, but they're not—"

"I know you're capable of great things, Dr. McCoy," Erik said. Charles imagined he was trying to make himself sound respectful, but there was something threatening about his tone. Erik shifted his gaze, eyeing Charles for a moment. "I believe your work will be successful. All of it. And in return for your aid, I will be more than happy to help you find potential students." He tapped his head again. "Mutants have a hard time hiding from me."

_That definitely sounds threatening_, Charles thought. He jumped when Erik glared at him.

"Uh, we should go discuss this," Charles said, standing up. He didn't even have to usher Raven and Hank—they were already following him as he hurried out of the room.

"What the hell, Raven?" Hank whispered in the entryway. "Where did you find this guy? In the mob?"

"No," she snapped quietly. "On a sidewalk."

"Okay, okay," Charles said, quivering a little. "Let's calm down. Perhaps we are being too judgmental."

"He knows everything about us, Charles," Raven said. She swallowed, shrinking in on herself.

"We don't know that for sure." He couldn't quite keep the fear out of his own voice. Choosing to ignore that particular issue, he turned to Hank. "What ideas was he talking about? Specifically?"

Hank fiddled with his fingers, a guilt-ridden expression contorting his features. "Well, um—these were just ideas, okay? I wasn't completely sure I would do anything with them, but, um…okay, look, the brain responds to electrical impulses. I thought maybe I could create a specific machine to not only view the brain's activity, but to…um, maybe…" He moved his hands about, frowning. "Um…test them? Push them? Affect them?"

"Shock therapy?" Raven snarled. Murder blazed in her eyes. "Are you kidding me, Hank?"

"They were just ideas!"

Charles lowered his gaze to the floor, his thoughts sporadic. What Hank was saying and what Erik had claimed still weren't adding up quite right. "When you say 'affect them,' do you mean 'enhance them?'" He cocked an eyebrow at Hank.

The other man licked his lips. "I suppose. You're thinking about what he said about—"

"—finding other mutants," Charles finished, nodding. "Yes. If you could enhance his ability, then theoretically, we could find other mutants with greater ease. And we could do so privately without having to expose our abilities."

His sister hit his arm. "And what about the 'bad guy,' huh? What if we actually find him? And how do we know he is not a good guy that Erik wants to…" Raven shivered, her mouth twisting downward. "You guys can't seriously be considering this."

Charles blew a breath past his lips. Raven wasn't wrong, but this opportunity…if the school continued to fail after they had chosen to bypass this opportunity, Charles would be sick to his stomach. All the mutants they could help…were they really going to cast Erik out because they were afraid of him? Wasn't letting people be who they were without being judged the whole point of this mutant school?

Charles placed a hand over his stomach. God, he was already starting to feel sick.

"Alex seems okay with him," Hank said, shrugging.

Raven glared at him.

Charles clenched his teeth. He needed to take action—they had failed long enough. "Look, Raven, the point of this school is for people like Erik—"

She groaned. "I know, but Charles—"

"We really need—"

"Yeah, but—"

"We've got to take this chance. How can we live with ourselves if we don't?"

She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. After a moment of consideration, she pointed an angry finger at him. "If he kills me in my sleep, I'm coming after you."

Charles's lips ticked upward. "Agreed." Inhaling sharply, he clasped his hands together and massaged them anxiously. "Now, perhaps we should go tell them the good news?"

"They probably already know it," Hank grumbled. He tapped his head, mocking Erik's serious facial expression.

Frowning disapprovingly, Charles grabbed his friend's wrist and lowered it. "It is rude to make assumptions, you know."

"No, he's right!" Alex called from the other room. "Erik already told me everything!"

Raven groaned again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys, :D**

**I finally got an update out! Thank you so much for being patient. :) And thank you for your reviews, story-alters, etc.. Those are always encouraging.**

**If you'd like to receive updates on when I'll be posting future chapters of this fic, go to my tumblr (the link is on my fanfiction profile here) and sign up for my email list. :D It's basically just a monthly update of what my writing-deadlines are, but it will also contain some facts about my stories (like whether I plan on my the "First Class Mutated" sequel a Cherik-fic or not ;D).**

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one!**

Chapter Six

For the next several days, all the boys did was talk about _theoretical-this_ and _theoretical-that_. Well, Alex never really participated in those conversations, but he seemed determined to get a word in, based on all of the small comments he made. Raven didn't understand why he was so eager to engage in some of the most boring conversations she had ever heard, but to be fair, it wasn't _her_ brother who was missing right now.

The thought fueled her with a sympathetic fear as she landed another blow to her punching bag. The impact shimmied up her arm, her flesh absorbing the energy, and then she aimed her palm at a different punching bag. The energy shot out of her hand and slammed into her target. She repeated this process several times.

Her workout room was spacious, full of various sized punching bags and mats. Two of the walls contained wide windows, which she kept opened so that cool air could continuously waft in the room. It also made the room feel like it was partially outside, and that was kind of liberating. It was as if she was out in the open, not hiding anything, not worried about anyone seeing her as she truly was. No lies, no false smiles, no pretending—

"Raven?"

She jumped, head snapping to the door. She smiled before she even registered it was Hank standing there.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said. He was still holding the doorknob, twisting it a little nervously. "I, um…I just wanted you to see something. With us. If you want."

"Yeah, sure thing."

Hank led her up to the third story—to the largest bedroom of the entire floor. The rest of the group was already there, standing next to one of the windows and motioning about. They were clearly having a deep discussion.

Charles noticed her right away. "Raven!" He broke away from the men to approach her. "I'm so glad you're here. We want your opinion on something."

She cocked an eyebrow, her gaze shifting to Erik and Alex. Erik didn't seem impressed by her presence in the slightest and poor Alex just looked confused.

"Alright," she said unconvincingly. "What is it?"

Charles jabbered on excitedly in that super-smart-language of his, pointing at Erik and Alex every so often. Hank would occasionally say a few things, but it still went over her head.

"Guys," she said, laughing a little. "Simple terms, please. I have no idea what you want with this room, or with me."

"It's just a theory," Hank said, not missing a beat, "but we believe that telepathy works in a similar way that a radio works."

Raven blinked. "Okay…"

"A radio works on various wavelengths," Hank continued. "It…it basically receives signals and noises out of the air. We think telepathy does that with thoughts—that our thoughts are like wavelengths and a non-telepathic mind is like a broken radio."

"Oh. I think I understand." She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the dusty fireplace in the corner. "So…you want to turn this bedroom into a giant telepathic radio?"

"Not quite," Charles said, his face crinkling with amusement. When she gave him a slight glare, he said, "You're close though! Erik, in this analogy, is already our radio. What we want to do is boost his range so that he can receive signals from farther away places."

"And by 'signals' you mean other mutants' minds."

"Precisely!"

She looked at Erik again. He didn't seem eager to do this, nor did he seem disturbed by the idea of it. "Will it hurt?" she asked.

Erik shrugged. "It's never been done before."

She frowned. Furrowing her brow, she returned her attention to Charles and Hank. "But…why do you need me?"

"I wanted to know what you thought," Charles said, tapping the pads of his fingers together. He winced in sheepish guilt. "This mansion has a lot of history in it, and Erik's well-being always needs to be considered."

Erik snorted.

"Do you think we would be crossing any ethical lines?" Charles asked her. "I hate the idea of destroying a historical landmark."

"And Erik's brain," Raven said.

"And Erik's brain, certainly."

She bit her lip and glanced around again. She was pretty sure this was just her brother taking pity on her—the sister who wasn't smart enough to endure this kind of scientific-talk. However, she was pretty desperate to contribute to their cause at this point, so she decided to set aside her pride and help…even though it smarted to do so. "Well, Charles, this is only one room amongst countless of other rooms. I don't think anyone's going to miss out on any significant educational experiences if you turn this room into a giant radio antenna. As for Erik," She smiled at the man in question, "do you care if your brain gets fried?"

"It won't," he said.

Raven smirked at Charles. "It won't."

Charles winced again. She could practically see his typical self-doubt getting the better of him.

"Look, I think it's worth it," she said. "If you guys are right, this could improve our goals exponentially."

Hank nodded. "My argument, exactly."

Charles whined a little, his excitement returning in fold. His lips spread wide. "Yes, yes, I know."

"Then it's settled," Raven said. Before another word could be said, she spun on her heels and headed toward the door. "I'm going out to eat, if anyone cares to join me. My treat."

"Actually," Charles said, "Alex offered to cook us dinner tonight."

Startled, she turned back around and blinked at Alex. "You cook?"

He gave her a one-shoulder shrug, staring at his feet. "Nothing fancy, but I do okay. I've never been in a kitchen as big as yours though, so I—"

"Come on," Raven said, smiling. "I'll show you how stuff works." She walked out the door. When she didn't hear footsteps behind her, she called out, "Hurry up, man. I'm starving!"

Eventually, he followed her.

* * *

"I don't think knowing how to make spaghetti means you're a cook," Raven said, taking a sip from her glass of ice water. She looked over Alex's shoulder while he hovered over the oven, two pots of noodles boiling and a large pan of meaty sauce heating up before him.

"It's cooking, ain't it?" Alex bit back.

"I guess."

He had his hands held up at chest-level. Every once in a while, he would use his mutation to make the pots jiggle and turn. Raven surmised this was his overly complicated way of stirring. As unnecessary as the action seemed, she couldn't help but think about her workout room—the pure feeling of using her own mutation.

"You like doing this, don't you?" she asked, empathy softening her tone.

"It's okay." A thoughtful expression creased his brow, and he glanced at her with vulnerability in his eyes. "It's one of the few times I can be around metal without seeming…weird to people."

"Yeah. It feels safe here."

"Yeah."

They fell into silence. Raven felt her right hand starting to go numb around her cold glass, so she put the glass in her other hand. Comfortable now, she dared to ask, "How do you feel about Erik? For real?"

He didn't look at her. "He's not the worst guy I've come across."

"Delightful."

"He just hates bad people. Who doesn't?"

"People _he_ thinks are bad."

"He said he was a Nazi-hunter. Most people think Nazis are bad."

She blinked owlishly. A part of her wanted to relax at this news, but she couldn't help but be suspicious. She swished her water around and thought. "That's what he told you?"

"He told all of us that a few days ago, when we were talking about…uh," Alex scratched his head, his lips turning downward, "uh…something about meditation and holding back our mutations. Balancing?"

"Tough, isn't it?" she said. She moved around so that she was at his side now, her hip pressing against the adjacent counter. She gave him a challenging smirk. "Talking to smarty-pants geniuses, I mean."

He blushed. "Yeah, but…it's nice."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm being a part of something for once, and I don't feel like my brother's a lost cause anymore. _I_ don't feel like a lost cause anymore." He cleared his throat and used his mutation to twist the pots and pan again. He stiffened his shoulders and tried to look indifferent. "You know, whatever."

Her heart panged a little, pride and understanding jittering through her flesh. The sensation reaffirmed to her that _this_ was what she was meant to do—helping fellow mutants, understanding them so that they could understand her in return.

Beyond confident, Raven eyed Alex's hands. "Do your powers only work through your hands?"

He looked down at them. "Huh. You know, I've never tried _not_ using my hands to control my powers before."

"My mutation is completely physical," she said, ignoring the way Alex snickered at the word 'physical,' "so that's how I control it. Yours though…it almost seems mental. What do you think or feel when you use your mutation?"

"I don't know. Anger, frustration…those kinds of things."

She harrumphed. "Sounds dangerous."

"Yeah, well, I'm dangerous."

She raised her free hand in surrender. "No need to get defensive. I only said that because if I used my mutation angrily, I could hurt myself."

"I thought it was totally _physical_."

"It is. If something hits my body hard enough, I can't stop myself from absorbing the impact. But I have to control the way I release that energy later on, otherwise it will eventually burst out of me all by itself." She shivered, her glass sending chills up her arm. The sensation was a great contrast to what it felt like to absorb and release energy—heat, essentially. She released a quiet breath. "It never feels good."

"So…when you release it out of anger—"

"It hurts like a bitch." She cringed as a few memories of fiery pain returned to her. Shaking her head, she set her glass on the counter beside her.

"It doesn't hurt me," Alex said. He no longer seemed affronted, merely curious. "It gives me strength. My powers don't work as well if I'm not angry."

She refrained herself from reacting for a moment, portraying a stoic mask while she thought his words over. His claim unsettled something in her gut, even while it piqued her interest. A mutation based on anger? Was it painful or therapeutic? Quickly, she got a spoon out of a drawer and placed it on the island near them.

"Show me," she said, resting her elbows on the narrow end of the island. Alex was only a couple feet away from her.

He turned away from the oven, his gaze flickering to the spoon. He opened his mouth, probably to question her, but then he pressed his lips together and stood a little straighter. Silently accepting her request, he aimed his hand at the lone utensil.

It didn't surprise her that the spoon floated a few seconds later. What did surprise her was the way it trembled, like the pots and pan Alex had manipulated earlier. And based on the way his facial muscles tensed and his gaze hardened, Raven suspected that he wasn't actually trying to make the spoon shake.

"Okay," she said softly, grabbing the spoon and lowering it to the counter.

Alex exhaled abruptly through his nose. Slumping, he wiped his eyes and forehead with both hands, as if he was trying to erase the evidence of his sudden fatigue.

"You want me to think happy thoughts now?" he asked. "Because I swear, it doesn't work."

"I believe you." She tapped her nails against the counter and considered a few options. "Have you ever tried thinking nothing?"

"Nothing?"

"Nada."

"That's impossible."

"Kind of, yeah. But if you try to keep your mind blank, it helps you focus."

"Don't you need to think to focus?"

"In my experience, yes and no."

He blinked rapidly a few times, disbelief and frustration marring his expression…until the barest hint of a smile appeared on his lips.

"Humor me," Raven said, mimicking his early motion by aiming her palm at the spoon. "I want to see what will happen."

Rolling his eyes, Alex raised his hands toward the spoon again.

Several seconds passed, and nothing happened.

"You're thinking," Raven accused.

"Duh," he said. "I'm alive. No one alive just stops thinking."

"Then simplify you're thinking. Only think about the spoon."

"What? You want me to think 'sppooooon?'" He closed his eyes and wiggled his fingers. "'Spooooon.'"

Raven restrained herself from chortling. But when she opened her mouth, she couldn't quite contain her laughter. "You're a weird one, Summers. You know, you're not—" Her eyes widened, the rest of her face going slack with shock.

"I'm not what?" he asked, humor glinting in his eyes.

Her smile spreading wider and wider by the second, she pointed behind him.

He furrowed his brow and turned. The pots and pan were floating in the air like they were full of helium. They were moving closer and closer to the cabinets, and they weren't shaking at all.

Alex yelped and jumped back. The pots and pans fell back to the stove, spilling boiling water and sauce all over the place.

Raven couldn't stop smiling. "That was awesome."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys,**

**Thank you for your reviews, story-favorites, etc.. And a special thank you to Zimmmbardoz from Archive of Our Own! She made some great fanart for this fic. Check it on my "First Class Mutated" page on my tumblr (the link is on my fanfiction profile. I'd post it here, but this site won't let me :().**

**Lots of Erik and Charles in this chapter! It was really fun to write. I hope you guys like it.**

**-Sandy**

* * *

Chapter Seven

Erik leaned forward, resting one elbow on his propped up knee. His other leg was stretched out over the cement steps that lead downward to the Reflecting Pool. Though he knew his body would eventually stiffen in this position, it felt comfortable for now. It even felt soothing—a foreign sensation to him that he wished to enjoy for as long as he could.

The air was motionless but refreshing, and he took deep breaths of it as he enjoyed the view of the Washington Monument in the distance. Occasionally, he glanced over at Charles.

The man was currently staring at the chessboard placed between them on the steps. Charles bit his blue lip as he considered his next move, his red eyes shifting over the chess pieces. He tapped his scaly fingers over his scaly leg, and even though they were in the shade, Erik could still see Charles's lizard-like body shimmer.

"You're holding back, Charles," Erik said, his voice booming in the dead-silence.

Startled by his own high volume, the telepath furrowed his brow and raised his gaze. It _was_ dead-silent. No sounds were coming from the city, there were no bystanders, there were no birds or squirrels—the entire area seemed empty of life.

"I'm not holding back," Charles said. Hesitating, he moved one of his pawns. "I simply prefer playing a defensive strategy."

"The most intelligent defensive strategies are useless if you can't be offensive." Still glancing around, he straightened a little. "Does something feel…strange to you?"

"Strange how?"

Weariness rumbled in his chest. "I'm not sure."

"Well, I suppose it is odd that I'm sitting naked in front of the Lincoln Memorial."

Erik's eyes snapped to him. "What?"

Smirking, Charles motioned toward his body.

Erik blinked at him. Charles's appearance was so alien to him that it didn't occur to him that…

Erik cleared his throat, embarrassment making his face warm. However, he kept eye contact with Charles because he didn't want the other man to feel ashamed. This body of blue scales was his true form, after all, and Charles had every right to be himself.

"Being intelligent with your offense is useless if you are unable to defend yourself," Charles said, his smirk morphing into a challenging smile. He pointed at the chessboard. "It's your turn."

Erik observed the board. His temples began to ache when he couldn't remember what his last move had been. Before him, the chess pieces began to blur, and he wiped a hand over his eyes. His skin was moist.

"Erik? What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I guess I don't feel well."

"You don't look well, either."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

Charles let out a short chuckle. "What point would there be in lying to a telepath?"

Erik snorted and cocked an eyebrow at him. "What's the point of playing chess with a telepath? Or doing anything with a telepath? You know I can cheat."

"Just because you can do something, doesn't mean that you will."

"That's not exactly an answer."

"No, it's not." Charles leaned his head back against the steps, his gaze wandering the sky. A thoughtful expression came over him. "You know what? The simple truth is that I play chess with you because I like playing chess with you, even if you cheat."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

Charles squinted at him like he was the dumbest person on the planet. "Because I like you. And because I like chess."

The words baffled Erik so much that he couldn't fully appreciate them. Turning away, he thought over what Charles had said—he thought about the odd nature of the setting and of their situation. His body began to tense, even as something warm wrapped around his heart.

"Erik?"

He was staring straight at Charles, but Charles's lips weren't moving.

"Erik? Can you hear me? Erik?"

* * *

Erik was staring at the grassy ground, three stories below him. Though he could feel sturdy railing beneath his forearms and solid planks beneath his feet, panic still surged through him. He reeled back and gasped, bumping into something behind him.

"Whoa, Erik," Charles said.

Erik spun around. He was sucking in air as if he couldn't get enough of it; it was chilly and it felt real, but how could he be certain? He swallowed, blinking several times before he fully registered that Charles was standing in front of him.

Charles—clothed and flesh-colored—frowned at him in concern. "Are you alright? You don't look well."

"I'm fine," Erik croaked. He cleared his throat and repeated his answer, sneering for good measure. "What do you want?"

Charles's frown deepened, a determined expression narrowing his gaze. _He must have had an episode like Alex had spoken about._

"I'm fine," Erik snarled, clenching his fists. "What do you want?"

"First tell me why you are here." _I need to verify his mental state before he can test out Cerebro._

"What?" Erik asked, more focused on Charles's thoughts than his words.

"Tell me why you are here," Charles repeated slowly.

"You know why. What's Cerebro?"

Charles eyes widened a little, but he otherwise remained composed. "I'll tell you after you answer my question."

"Don't treat me like a damn invalid. I'm not crazy."

"I don't think you're crazy."

Erik clenched his teeth. He was about to accuse of Charles's of being a liar, but as his mind sought out Charles's, he realized that the shapeshifter was being honest with him. Erik's jaw went lax and his body uncoiled somewhat. Unfamiliar with dealing with a situation like this, he stared at the wooden planks that made up the balcony.

_He's overwhelmed._ "You're overwhelmed," Charles said. _He's overworking his mind—it's taxing him._ "You are overworking your mind. It must be tax—"

"I can hear your thoughts, remember?" Erik snapped, but there was little heat in his tone.

Charles winced and blushed. "All too right. I apologize, Erik." _It's been weeks, and I still can't get used to the fact that he is a tele—_ Charles's face became even redder, and he gave Erik a sheepish smile. _Sorry._

"Stop apologizing."

"Of course. Now, answer my question so I know that your mind hasn't been overwhelmed."

Erik huffed out a breath, eyeing Charles. Though Charles seemed unrelenting, he also didn't seem like an enemy.

"I'm on one of the balconies of the third story. I didn't pay attention to which one I went out on…the northern one, I think," Erik said. And for good measure, he added, "We had just finished working on the device, and Hank told us all to take a break while he tuned it up or something."

Charles visibly relaxed. "He's decided to call the device Cerebro."

"Oh."

"Yes." Amusement, relief, and excitement radiated off the shorter man. "He has finished tweaking whatever it was that need tweaking. Are you still up for trying it out?"

"What would you do if I said I wasn't?"

"Weep unabashedly."

Erik bit back a grin.

"Of course," Charles said, his tone serious, "if you really aren't—"

Erik walked around him and into the mansion. "Come on."

_He's certainly confident_, Charles thought, walking behind him at a quick pace. _I hope it isn't arrogance. That reckless kind of attitude could—_

Erik looked over his shoulder and glared at him.

Charles cringed. _Bugger. My apologies, again._

_ Stop apologizing._

_ You _are_ glaring at me, you know._

Erik returned his attention forward. _I glare at everyone. Don't take it personally._

_Of course not_, Charles thought sarcastically._ Silly me._

Erik wasn't going to bother to continue the conversation, but now that he was calmer, certain details of his most recent hallucination poked at his psyche. Partially worried, partially curious, he looked over at Charles, who was now walking beside him in the hallway.

"Do you play chess?" Erik asked.

Surprised by the question, Charles's lips quirked up. "Why yes, I do. Do you play?"

Erik hid his fear and discomfort behind stoicism. He couldn't remember when he had learned that Charles played chess. Did he read the man's mind without knowing it? Did he delve into Charles's memories and then forget about it?

"Erik?" Charles said.

"I used to," Erik said, entering the room designated for Cerebro.

The former bedroom looked nothing like it had several weeks ago. The fireplace had been boarded up and all of the furniture had been removed—even the curtains. Hundreds of colorful wires ran over the floor and walls, and massive machines took up about a third of the large space. Somehow, according to Hank and Charles, all of these wires and machines were attached to several satellite dishes they had contractors install on the roof.

Basically, this room was a miniature lab with Cerebro resting near the open windows.

Hank was messing with one of the machines near the boarded up fireplace. He didn't notice Erik and Charles enter the room, and Erik decided not to announce their presence. Instead, he walked up to Cerebro. Though he had helped Hank build the thing, he hadn't noticed how much like an electric chair it looked until now—until he was about to sit in it.

Erik's chest tightened, but he forced himself to appear unbothered. Nonchalantly, his eyes roamed over the dome above the chair. The head-shaped dome had many black wires running out of it, connecting it to the machines.

_He must be nervous_, Charles thought as Hank thought, _Oh, here they are. They must be excited, but not nearly as excited as I am._

"Are you ready, Erik?" Hank asked, hurrying over to the chair and adjusting it properly.

"Let me get Raven and Alex first," Charles said, extending his hand toward a belligerent Hank. "They helped with this, too, Hank. Cerebro would have taken a lot longer to create if Alex hadn't used his mutation to help build everything."

Erik had to agree, silently impressed that Alex had gained such a great amount of control over his mutation in a matter of weeks. The kid had been more useful than Erik had imagined he would be.

Hank, clearly impatient, nodded at Charles. But just before Charles could leave, Erik told him not to bother.

"I got it," Erik said, pressing his fingers to his temple.

He mentally called out for both Alex and Raven, who were spending time together in a nearby room. Unable to help himself, Erik telepathically mocked Alex for having a crush on the girl.

_It's not like that,_ the kid responded.

Erik could feel the truth of that statement, but he didn't care. _Sure it's not. Just keep it in your pants until we're finished here. The last thing we need is a baby magnet running around this place while we work._

_ Shut up, ass-face._

Erik smirked and lowered his hand. "They're on their way."

"Excellent," Charles said. He patted his hands together, glancing over the chair. _God, I hope this works._

_Me too_, Erik mentally said to him.

Charles nodded, but he kept his gaze on the chair.

* * *

After the two blondes arrived, Hank helped Erik settle in the chair. It wasn't a difficult task to accomplish, but the dome was fragile and Hank didn't trust Erik enough to let him be the one to pull it over his own head. Once Hank was finished, he patted Erik's shoulder and rushed over to a specific machine.

_I hope you don't croak_, Alex thought to Erik. The kid was rocking on his heels several feet away from him. _I think I might actually feel bad if you did._

Erik glared. _Thanks._

_ No problem._

Standing next to Alex was Raven, who was focused on keeping herself completely motionless. Apparently, she could absorb any small amount of energy that hit her, and she didn't want to have to worry about that at a time like this. She gave Erik a reassuring smile while her mind babbled anxiously.

Charles kneeled down in front of the chair. His mind was also frantic, but Erik could tell that the man was at least trying to calm his fears.

"If even the smallest of things seems wrong to you," Charles said, "tells us right away, and we'll shut this thing down."

"Alright," Erik said.

They stared at each other for a moment. Erik had been so focused on the work itself these past weeks that he hadn't paid much attention to anyone else. But now that they were all thinking about him, a hint of sincere concern in their thoughts, he was a little uncomfortable to realize that these people were growing fond of him. Worse was the realization that he didn't distrust them as much as he did when they first met. He was willingly sitting in their experimental chair, for God's sake.

He looked over Charles's head at Alex. The kid gave him a thumbs up, all the while thinking, _I hope this doesn't hurt him._

Erik's gaze snapped back down when Charles squeezed his arm.

"I'll be okay," Erik said to him—hell, to everyone. "Let's get on with this."

"Yes, of course," Charles said, moving to wherever Hank was now.

"Ready, Erik?" Hank asked.

"I've been ready," Erik said, forcing himself to keep still. It was all he could not to twitch and tap the chair. "Let's go."

"Alright," Hank said. "Starting up in three…two…one."

The machines hummed and trembled.

Erik's body jolted and his hands snapped forward on their own accord. For a second, his senses were overwhelmed—as if he could feel everything move and breathe and think all at once. It was incredible and disorienting, and he was certain that his own body wasn't breathing any longer.

Then it became painful. He couldn't make sense out of everyone's thoughts and feelings. It was as if he was listening to the entire world scream gibberish at him while having a panic attack. His brain was going to implode, he was certain of it. His muscles seized and his lungs burned, desperate for air.

"Turn it off!" someone was shouting. "Turn it off!"

"Erik!"

He soon lost his vision and his ability to hear. All he could feel was garbled emotions and thoughts ripping his head apart into billions of pieces. And he couldn't even muster up the strength or the awareness to scream.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles sat beside an unconscious Erik in the mansion's newly established medical wing on the first floor. The large area used to be a parlor, but since neither he nor Raven had ever spent any time in it, it seemed like a good place for Hank to set up a small hospital for mutants.

The windows had been cemented shut and plastered over, and the whitened walls had been covered with layers and layers of various cleaning agents. The floors, which used to be made out of wooden floorboards, were now made up of smooth gray tiles. Several beds stood parallel with each other on the right side of the area, while a couple of beds stood parallel to each other on the left side. The beds on the left were surrounded by more medical equipment and machinery.

They were on the left side of the room, with Erik hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV drip. Today was the first day the man no longer had to wear an oxygen mask, and though that should have made Charles feel better about the telepath's physical state, it didn't.

Erik had been in a coma for days. Charles, on more than one occasion, panicked and begged Hank to let him take Erik to an actual hospital; Hank was brilliant, but he wasn't a neurologist or a brain surgeon.

"Not officially," Hank had said, "but I am more qualified to deal with a telepathic injury than any doctors at the hospital are."

"Have you ever dealt with telepathic injuries before?" Charles had asked.

"No. But that doesn't make my statement any less true."

When Charles had practically shouted at Hank in response, Hank had told him that he was doing all of the research and all of the work he could to make Erik better. And, though Charles was uncomfortable with the idea of withholding Erik from more…_official_ medical care, he had known that Hank was right; no one knew how to take care of a telepath properly.

Charles stared at Erik now. The man didn't look ill; his hair was matted with sweat and his face was a little slack, but other than, he just seemed like he was taking a nap.

Charles swallowed and glanced away. Nearby, he could hear Alex pacing from one end of the massive room to the other. Hank had gone to the restroom some time ago, and Raven…well, Charles wasn't sure where his sister had gone to. At times, he was tempted to search for her—both to comfort her and to hide away from Erik's form, but he could never bring himself to be away from the injured man for long.

The metal bedframes of all the beds started to quiver. Again.

Charles sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Alex…"

"I know," the blonde said tersely. The bedframes shook a little harder, and Alex paced a little faster. "I can't help it, okay? I just…this is...messed up!" Breathing heavily, he stopped and clenched his fists. "He's probably brain dead now, and it's all my fault."

Charles's heart stuttered. "It's not—"

"How am I going to find Scott with him?" Alex motioned toward Erik. The young man's had quivered a little as it returned to his side, and he gritted his teeth. "I need him. I needed his help so badly that I pushed him into…we should have tested Cerebro better or something. He should have woken up by now!"

Alex's lips curled downward, and he looked like he was going to say something else. But then he simply huffed and returned to his pacing.

"It's not your fault," Charles said. He tasted the hypocrisy on his tongue, but he forced himself not to wince at the nauseating taste. "He knew the risks. In fact, with all due respect, I doubt any of us could push Erik into doing anything."

Charles saw Alex's lips tweak upward, and the metal in the room went still. "That's true."

Charles wiped his clammy hands against his pants. His body felt worn from the worry and fear he had been experiencing the past few days, but his heart continued to thud in anxious anticipation of the worst. He swallowed again and shook his head.

When Alex came to stand beside him, Charles looked up.

"It's not your fault either," the blonde told him earnestly.

"Logically, I know that. But…" Charles lowered his gaze to Erik. "I needed him, too, to accomplish my goals. And now that I am thinking about all of this in hindsight, I am more disconcerted with the fact that I was willing to endanger him to potentially benefit this school."

Alex hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Acting out of desperation doesn't feel good."

"No, it does not."

Charles jumped when Alex gave him a rough pat to the shoulder. For a split second, Charles had feared he had come off offensive, and he looked up to give Alex an apologetic expression. But, much to Charles's relief, the blonde was smiling down at him. Charles returned the smile full heartedly and relaxed.

"This school is a great idea," Alex said. "My brother and I could really use a place like this."

Tears prickled in Charles's eyes. Awkwardly, he glanced away and cleared his throat. "Good. That's…very good. I'm glad. Sincerely."

Alex patted him roughly again, and Charles laughed.

Someone cleared their throat, and both Charles and Alex looked in the direction of the medical wing's entrance.

Raven stood there with bags of greasy fast food in her arms. She smirked at them. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"What have you been doing?" Alex asked, somewhat cross yet somewhat patient.

Raven approached them. "Freaking out. You?" She placed a bag on Charles's lap—much to his own horror—and she handed another bag to Alex.

Charles blushed. His sister's tactless behavior tended to be embarrassing, but it was effective. Nervously, he opened the fast food bag to distract himself. He barely managed to withhold a gag.

"Same," Alex grumbled, finally taking the bag. "Thanks."

"Sure thing," Raven said.

* * *

That night—like all the other nights since the accident—Charles fell asleep in an adjacent bed to Erik's. Alex slept in the medical wing, too, while Hank and Raven had gone somewhere else in the mansion to rest.

Charles tossed and turned, stress making it difficult for him to fully give in to unconsciousness. He listened with envy as Alex snored on the other side of the room.

Charles felt something within him jar to the side, but not only did his body stay in place, he couldn't find the strength to open his eyes and gasp. He was being pulled—faster and faster into…he wasn't even sure. It was surreal and disorienting, and though his stomach dropped, he didn't actually feel afraid.

When his eyes did snap open, he found himself in the room where they had built Cerebro. People were conversing nearby, and he could have sworn he heard his own voice.

Cautiously, Charles stood up and looked around. He had been convinced that he was dreaming—that everything was fine, just odd—but when he got a good look at who was standing around Cerebro, he felt his heart ice over and his lungs constrict. Horror tore through his flesh.

Before Charles was Hank, Erik, and himself. And while Hank and Erik were normal and talking about how to fix Cerebro, Charles was standing there in his true form…in blue scales with red eyes and—

"Dear lord," Charles breathed, feeling nauseous. It was as if he was staring at a demonic version of himself…a demonic, _naked_ version of himself.

Erik turned to the real-Charles, and a baffled expression came over the older man's face. His eyelids fluttered in surprise before he leaned forward and squinted. "Charles?"

Charles couldn't take his eyes off the bluer version of himself. "Good lord," he breathed again.

Erik glanced between real-Charles and blue-Charles. Remarkably, the telepath seemed calm—confused but calm. "I don't understand."

Charles was tempted to laugh, hysteria starting to get the better of him. He shook it off though. He had dreams like this before, and every time he had realized he was dreaming, his mind was able to take control over it and make it into something pleasant. Focusing, he tried to do just that. However, after several seconds of concentrating on blue-Charles—after several seconds of trying to make that demon vanish—nothing happened.

"Am I dreaming?" Charles asked aloud, fear choking his voice. He pinched the palm of his hand repeatedly, feeling nothing. His widened eyes returned to blue-Charles, who was still conversing with Hank as if real-Charles wasn't even there. "What's happening? Why is this…? Oh, God."

"Charles?" Erik said, approaching him with tentative steps.

Charles clutched his stomach, fearing was going to be sick. "This has to be the worst nightmare I have ever had."

"Nightmare?" Erik glanced around. "This…isn't real?"

"Of course not! You're in a coma and I'm—" Charles swatted toward blue-Charles in disgust.

"A coma?"

"God," Charles said, horror twisting into anger as he glared at blue-Charles. "Why won't he go away?!" He tugged on his own collar and backed away. "Why won't I wake up? This is awful."

While Charles was slowly surrendering to his growing panic attack, Erik was giving him and their surroundings a perturbed look. After several seconds, Erik hesitantly swiped his arms out.

The room instantly emptied of people and furniture. Only Erik and Charles stood there now.

Charles stopped breathing, his hands lowering to his side. Once he was finished expecting the now-empty room, he turned to regard Erik. "I didn't make you do that."

Erik swallowed, a guilt-ridden wince wrinkling the skin around his eyes. "I don't think you're dreaming, Charles. I am. I must have telepathically…" He motioned with his hands, even as confusion marred his expression.

Charles blinked at him, not immediately comprehending his words. When he did, his fear was buried beneath his overpowering relief and fascination. "You mean we are telepathically linked? At this moment?"

"I think so, yes. It happened once before with a woman named Mag—" Erik shook his head. "Nevermind. It's not important."

"Amazing," Charles said, not daring to take his eyes off of Erik now.

Erik appeared alright in this…illusion or dream or whatever this was. He didn't seem damaged or hurt, at all. Regardless, Charles kept looking him up and down to make sure. If mental-Erik was alright, perhaps then the real-Erik was alright.

"I'm sorry, Charles," Erik said, gritting his teeth in anger. "You…you say I'm in a coma?"

"Yeah, I—are you alright?" Charles dared to approach him, and he was so relieved that Erik didn't disappear or warp.

Erik nodded. "Sometimes when I am hurt badly enough, I dream…too actively, I suppose. But I am fine."

"Thank God. You've been unconscious for days."

Erik's eyebrows shot up. "Days?"

"Yes. We've all been worried sick about you. Do you think you can wake up, now that you know this isn't…" Charles glanced around the room. An empathetic embarrassment came over him, though he hoped Erik wasn't truly embarrassed by all of this; this was incredible, accidentally created or not.

"I'll try," Erik said. He rubbed his forehead and looked down. "I didn't realize it had been days. It might take me a little while to fight against this illusion."

"Of course," Charles said. "Is there any way I can help?"

"You being here has certainly helped. It broke away at my false sense of reasoning." A thoughtful expression came over Erik's face then, and he looked Charles straight in the eye. "You…you thought this was a nightmare?"

Charles blushed. Remembering his blue-self brought made sincere humiliation claw its way up his spine and spread throughout his flesh.

"Seeing yourself scares you?" Erik asked. The mere thought of it seemed to hurt and offend him, and he shook his head with a pained disbelief. "Why?"

Irked, Charles frowned. "'Why?' You saw—" He blanched. "Dear God, you saw him. Me. You know…what I really look like?"

"Of course I do. I'm a telepath."

"Right," Charles said, noticing his surroundings again. "Obviously."

"Charles—"

"I don't want to discuss this." Charles took a step back, wanting to escape this conversation but still wanting to help Erik get out of there. He gave the older man a tensed smile. "And I don't want to discuss this ever again. Let's just focus on waking you up, and then forget that this ever happened."

Erik furrowed his brow. "No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

Erik glared. "How do you expect other mutants to be true to themselves if you're not true to yourself?"

The truth of Erik's words pierced Charles, and he responded to that painful sensation by glaring back at the telepath. "That's not the same thing."

"Is that so?" Erik asked sarcastically. He leaned back, a sardonic smile complimenting his narrowed eyes. "Tell me then, how is it different?"

"It just is."

"Wow, very convincing."

"Stop it. You have to wake up. You are in danger."

"I told you, I'm fine."

"You're in a coma!"

"And I will wake up," Erik growled, walking close enough so that he was hovering over Charles. "But right now, I want you to explain to me how being ashamed of being a mutant is going to help anyone at this mutant school? How is demanding that people like Raven and Hank be honest and brave while you're just—"

"They're not abnormal, Erik!" Charles snapped. Rage, humiliation, and grief radiated through his voice, making his throat close up and his eyes water. "They are subspecies of human, and wonderful ones at that. I'm not even sure what the hell I am! Have you ever seen a mutant who looked as bizarre as I do?!"

Erik's expression softened—not quite regretful, but nearly as certain and angry. His eyes did become glassy as pity brushed over them.

"Am I diseased?" Charles continued, because now that he had started confessing his greatest fear, he couldn't gather up the strength to make himself stop. "Am I freak of nature? An alien? What am I?! What if I'm not a mutant but some kind of monster? What then? What help would I be to mutants then?"

"You're not a monster," Erik said hoarsely.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you."

Charles gave a humorless snort. Grinding his teeth together, he said, "You're abilities are amazing, I'll give you that. But do not dare think that rummaging through my thoughts and memories is the same thing as getting to know me. It isn't. You don't know a bloody thing about me."

Erik pressed his lips together. He looked like he wanted to argue some more—to shout—but after a few intense seconds, he glanced away.

"Now," Charles growled, "stop wasting time and wake up."

Shortly after he said that, their surroundings brightened into something unrecognizable. Thoughts and images swirled around them…and then Charles was back in his own head, and he instantly fell into a deep sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

True to his nature, Erik woke up from his coma irritated and defiant. He got out of bed, despite Hank's protests, and he went upstairs to change into clean clothes. Then he returned to working on Cerebro.

Obviously, Raven was immensely relieved that Erik was alright, but his regained consciousness seemed to have disrupted something amongst the group. Raven, for the first time in many years, couldn't get herself to speak her mind; it was as if her torrent emotions were devouring her words before she could even properly think of them. And Charles was being distant, hiding away in his room like he had when he was a teenager. Alex had turned into a mother hen who constantly fretted over Erik—never arguing with the older man, even when he clearly deserved to be yelled at. And sweet Hank was—

"Are you suicidal?!" Hank shouted, pushing Erik away from Cerebro. "You can't just tweak whatever you want on this thing!"

"It's going on my head," Erik growled, using the tool he was holding to point at himself. "I think I can do whatever I damn well please to it."

"You don't have a proper understanding of biomechanics. I do. So when we are working on Cerebro, you do as I tell you. Understood?"

"I've gone through your memories, so in a way, I do have a _proper_ understanding of—"

"No you don't! That is not the same thing!"

"How would you know?!"

Raven was leaning against the doorway as the two argued. Alex was standing behind her, in the hallway. Though she couldn't see the blonde, she could feel his nervous energy radiate off of him. It sent uncomfortable shivers over her skin.

Sighing, Raven exited the room and walked down the hall. Even if she could think of what to say to anyone, she knew she wouldn't say it. Something about Erik going into a coma had made her more…guilty? Aware? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that she didn't want to say or do anything wrong.

"Where are you going?" Alex asked her.

Raven waved a hand at him before she continued down another hallway. Now that Hank was angry beyond reason, there was only one person who Raven trusted to keep the peace in this household.

She knocked on her brother's bedroom door. "Charles?"

He didn't respond.

"Charles?"

Again, he didn't respond.

Raven continued knocking, consistently using the energy she received from the light impacts to shoot energy beams down the hallway. A few pictures fell from the wall, but she didn't care.

It wasn't until she accidentally made a large painting fall to the ground that Charles opened his door with an annoyed huff. "What?"

Raven swallowed. "We should talk."

Charles narrowed his gaze at her for a moment before shrugging and stepping aside.

Hesitantly, she entered his room.

"What do you want to talk about?" Charles asked as he closed his door.

Raven crossed her arms and glanced around. As always, there were several books opened on the floor and on the desk. The bookshelves were full of other books. The rest of the area was actually clean though—organized, proper. It was nothing like Raven's bedroom.

"Raven?"

She turned to him and opened her mouth. When nothing came out—when her frazzled thoughts refused to make sense—she groaned. Without really thinking about it, she trudged over to Charles's bed and let her back collapse on it.

Several uncomfortable seconds past where neither of them did anything. Raven was no longer sure what she thought she would accomplish by coming here, so she just gave up and let the awkwardness of the situation consume her.

Eventually, Charles walked over and cautiously laid himself beside her. They stared at the ceiling for several more moments.

"It's that bad, huh?" Charles asked quietly, not looking at her.

Relief flooded through Raven so quickly she nearly laughed. "Yes! It's terrible."

"You want me to talk to Erik?"

"To everyone."

"Everyone?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his mouth open in slight bewilderment. "Why?"

Raven huffed, frustrated as she tried to think. "Because…we're broken."

"And I'm the only one who can fix all of you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Raven shrugged. She really had no idea why. Hank was the one people normally gravitated to first, but Charles…there was just something special and trustworthy about Charles.

Charles made a thoughtful, albeit exasperated, noise as he returned his gaze to the ceiling. He was quiet for several seconds before he said, "I don't want to, you know."

Raven nodded. She had assumed as much.

Charles raised himself up and walked toward the door. "Come on, let's go."

She eagerly followed him.

* * *

Hank and Erik were still fighting when Raven and Charles entered the Cerebro-room. Alex stood beside Erik and tried to come to his defense, but the blonde man was ignored.

Raven gave Charles a pointed look of weariness, but her brother wasn't paying her any mind. He was staring at the group of men—his expression haunted and worried. Seeing him like that made Raven's heart stutter, and she touched his arm as a means of comfort. Guilt began to make her feel uneasy…insecure. She was about to tell Charles that this had been a bad idea when he strode forward and released a shrill scream, like that of an alarm.

Raven jolted back, her palms snapping up to cover her aching ears. Pain shot through her head, and though Charles had gone quiet after a few seconds, the pain continued to thrum within her brain.

"Damn it, Charles!" Raven snapped, massaging her ears. "What the hell are you trying to do?!"

"This needs to stop," Charles said, facing the men, who were wincing and blinking at Charles like he had gone insane. Charles did glance at Raven for good measure, but only briefly. "We are no longer working together but against each other. We will accomplish nothing if we continue to behave this way."

"What do you suggest we do?" Hank said, glaring. He slapped his hand toward Erik. "Erik is so blinded by his ego that he won't listen to reason."

Erik sneered. "_I_ won't listen to reason?"

"Enough!" Charles said. He stepped closer to Erik and pointed at the larger man's chest. "You were hurt badly, and that not only shook up our confidence in this project, but in our abilities. You need to be patient with us as we get through this."

"I don't have time," Erik said, his lips curling downward.

"Make. Time," Charles said. He turned his attention to Hank before Erik could say another word. "I know you, Hank. I know you are feeling guilty about what happened. We all are."

Hank frowned and lowered his gaze.

"But Erik is fine," Charles continued, his voice softer. "And we all have too much stake in this to give up. We have our school, Alex is looking for his brother, and Erik is looking for…some fiend."

Raven smirked. "Fiend?"

"My point is," Charles said, ignoring her, "we need to be patient with one another if we are going to do this successfully. That means we will need to make compromises, we will need to let go of our fears, and we need to let go of our egos. Can we all do that?"

Charles stared each one of them down. His gaze must have been intense when he looked at Alex because the younger man flinched a little.

"And what about your fears, Charles?" Erik asked, his voice low and his tone challenging.

Raven furrowed her brow, suspicious. She watched as Erik and her brother glared at each other, and a sickening jitter traveled up her gut. Erik, being an unrestrained telepath, must have known everything about Charles. The mere thought had Raven pressing her lips together, her nostrils flaring. Charles was a grown man, but if Erik was going to pressure her brother into something he wasn't ready for, then—

Charles shapeshifted. Still wearing his shirt and slacks, he revealed the blue scales on his arms, head, and neck. His eyes were their normal red, and his hair was its normal black.

Raven withheld a gasp. It had been a long time since she had seen Charles's true nature. He never even talked about it, and now he just stood there…defiant yet clearly horrified.

Hank and Alex looked stricken, their eyes comically wide. The only one who didn't seem surprised was Erik.

Charles blinked and shapeshifted back into his more human appearance. "That," he said shakily, "was me in my true form. It's not comfortable for me to be in said form though, so I'd prefer to look the way I want to look. Will that suffice?" He was staring at Erik.

Hell, they were all staring at Erik.

The older man still looked angry, as always, but the tension in his shoulders visibly loosened. And for a second, Raven thought she could see some sympathy glimmering in his eyes.

"Yes," Erik said quietly. "It will suffice."

* * *

The following weeks went by much smoother. With the exception of Alex constantly asking questions about Charles's true form, there was no more tension created by anyone in the group.

"Just let it go," Raven whispered to Alex one day.

"But he's—"

"Shhh. If he wants to talk about it, he'll talk about it. Don't pressure him."

Alex grumbled a few unkind words at that, but he ultimately complied. He wasn't as disturbed by Charles as Raven imagined he would be, just curious. It was easy enough for Alex to give a friend some privacy.

* * *

Everyone was anxious as Erik settled himself into Cerebro again. What made it particularly eerie for Raven was that everything looked and felt the same as when they had first tried to do this. She and Alex were even standing in the same spots. She moved to stand on Alex's other side, not wanting to jinx anything. She was grateful when he didn't say anything.

"Alright," Charles said, looking over Hank's shoulder while the young doctor pressed a few buttons on a machine. They were only a couple feet away from Erik and Cerebro. "Are you ready, Erik?"

"Yes," Erik said. He had a little moisture on his face, and his eyes kept shifting about. It was the most nervous Raven had ever seen him.

Charles nodded. "Do it, Hank."

Hank pulled a lever, and Cerebro burst to life. Lights flickered through Cerebro's dome, wires sparking and Erik tensing.

"Erik?" Raven said nervously, her hand brushing against Alex's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

A wide smile graced Erik's face. "It's amazing."

"It's working?" Hank said excitedly, glancing up from the machine.

"Yes. I can see…so much. So many people."

Charles took careful steps toward Erik. "It's not hurting you?"

"No," Erik said, still smiling. "Not at all. It's incredible." His face went slack for a second, his eyes widening.

"Erik?" Raven said again, louder and panicked. She squeezed Alex's arm. "What's wrong?"

"Guys," Erik said breathlessly. His eyes began to glimmer as his lips spread into a warm smile. "There are so many of us. I can't even count them all. There are so many mutants living amongst humans. I don't know where to start."

Raven hadn't thought that there would be a lot of mutants in existence, just that there would be some she could help. But to hear that she wasn't as alone or as different as she thought…the joy and relief she felt overwhelmed her. She couldn't stop herself from laughing and hugging Alex. She wasn't a freak. None of them were.

"Wait," Erik said, raising his hand. "I do see someone we could recruit for this school."

"Who?" Charles asked, his voice watery and his eyes filled with hope.

"Armando Muñoz."


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys,**

**Thank you so much for your patience. :D And thank you all for the reviews, favorites, etc.. I'm always so flattered when I get those. **

**We get to meet some of the other mutants in this chapter! Finally!**

**-Sandy**

Chapter Ten

Using Cerebro had been like a religious experience to Erik. Connecting with so many minds—seeing into so many psyches—it made the concept of the mutant school seem righteous. All of the mutants he had seen needed help; they needed Charles, Hank, Raven, and maybe even Erik. And the idea of giving someone help just for the sake of helping didn't bother him like it would have in the past. In fact, it made him feel strong, as if the years of pain he had suffered were meant to prepare him for this very moment in West Bronx.

"Turn here," Erik said from the passenger seat.

Raven slowed the car and glanced at the narrow street Erik was pointing at. They had been traveling together in peace—respectable conversations, Erik giving directions every so often—but now he could sense discomfort radiating off of her. "Uh…I don't think I can go down this way. I'll have to drive around."

Erik rolled his eyes. "There is hardly anyone here. Just drive down it. This won't take long."

Raven stopped the car. "Erik, that's a one-way street, and I can see a bunch of moving cars a couple of blocks down. I'll just drive around."

"That's a waste of time. I can see him right there. Just—" Erik released a frustrated huff. He could think of no legitimate reason for his rush, only that he was eager to help a fellow mutant. "Forget it." He got out of the car, and before shutting the door, he said, "Drive around and meet me."

Raven gave him an indignant look, but he opted to ignore it as he walked down the street. He heard her drive away a few seconds later.

Armando Muñoz was sitting cross-legged and leaning against a building. His body was parallel with the window right next to him, its bottom sill only a few inches above the ground. Though the window was closed and the blinds were shut, Erik could still hear the sounds of people talking within the small apartment.

Erik stopped in front of Armando. The younger man was dressed in faded, torn clothing. His face was unshaven and drooping, the whites of his eyes tinted with pink.

Obviously defensive, Armando looked up at him. "What?"

Erik smiled, perhaps a bit too widely. Now that he was here, he wasn't quite sure how to recruit someone. Truly, he didn't think Armando would be helpful in his hunt for Schmidt, but he could be very good for Charles and his school. Their school.

The thought renewed his enthusiasm, and Erik cleared his throat. "Your name is Armando Muñoz. You've been homeless for several months after being fired from your job and abandoned by your family. You come here, to this apartment," Erik nodded toward the window, "to listen to your mother with her new family. After she kicked you out, she got married to the first guy she started dating. She never mentioned you to him. Yet despite her cruelty toward you for your mutation, you still miss her. You blame yourself for your gift and her reaction to it." He clenched his teeth, a wave of anger coming over him. He had felt Armando's pain—could feel it now as his mind tentatively reached out to Armando's. "You don't deserve that. Her prejudice is her fault—her burden, not yours."

Armando's face was an indifferent mask, but Erik could sense the other man's panic. "Who the hell are you?"

Erik lowered himself to a crouch, which earned a flinch from Armando. "I'm Erik Lehnsherr, and I have a mutation, too."

"Mutation?" Armando's eyes darted to Erik's feet.

Erik smirked. "My mutation has more to do with my mind, actually. But there are others whose mutations have given them physical attributions that seem strange to humans…that scares them."

Armando's fascination, hope, and discomfort twisted his features into a baffled expression. "You talk like we are science experiments."

"We're not. It's simply evolution."

Armando snorted at that. "Yeah? Evolution? This—" He extended his right leg and took off his large shoe. The upper half of his ape-like foot poked out of a torn sock.

Erik glanced at it, unsurprised. When he looked back up at Armando, the homeless man was gaping at him with crazed, fear-filled eyes. Raising his foot a little, Armando said, "You're saying that this is evolution?!"

"Yes."

"Please," Armando huffed, stuffing his foot back into his shoe. A strange sense of disappointment emitted from Armando, having clearly expected Erik to freak out or something over his mutation. "You're insane."

"Perhaps. But I'm also right. And deep down, you know that's true."

"Do I? Thanks for letting me know."

"Look," Erik said, standing back up, "my colleagues and I are starting a facility that is meant to help people like us. Mutants. I found you with my telepathy, and I came here to offer you a chance to join us. Now, you can either come with me, or you can continue living on the streets until you starve to death."

Armando scowled. His thoughts were fighting with each other, desperate to hope for a better life yet not quite willing to trust Erik.

Erik pressed his lips together. When several more seconds of silence went by, his impatience got the better of him and he let out a growl.

Armando merely blinked at him. "Are you for real?"

"I'm trying to help you, and—"

Raven pulled up then, the driver's window already lowered. "Hey, sorry I took so long! There was a cat who wouldn't get the hell out of my way."

"Who's that?" Armando asked, craning his neck in an attempt to see Raven.

"A friend," Erik told him. Then he turned to Raven. "It's fine. Give me a few minutes."

"Minutes?" Raven said, her tone full of exasperation and amusement. "You haven't closed the deal yet?"

"No."

"Seriously? I thought you said this guy was homeless. How hard is it to convince a homeless guy to come live in a mansion and eat free food?"

Happiness burst from Armando's psyche, startling Erik so much that he jumped. Before the telepath could even look over his shoulder, Armando was already walking past him and toward Raven.

"Next time," Armando said, glancing at Erik with a pointed expression, "lead with the mansion and free food."

* * *

The next recruiting trip, Erik went with Charles and Alex. The next recruit—potentially very useful in his hunt for Schmidt—was around Alex's age, so Erik thought the two younger mutants could relate to each other. Charles was just pleasant to be around, and he was less likely to growl at anyone who annoyed him.

Erik knocked on the front door of a large home in a suburbs right outside the New York City lines. Toys were scattered all over the front yard, and the white picket fence was crooked and chipped.

Children running around, screaming, could be heard coming from inside the house.

Erik moved to stand behind Charles and Alex.

Alex smirked at him. _You spooked?_

_I hate children._

_ I'm shocked._

Charles glanced between the two of them knowingly, but before he could utter a word, a middle-aged woman opened the door.

"Yes?" she said, speaking loudly over the nearby children. Her smile was polite but her eyes expressed exhaustion. "How can I help you?" Her Irish dialect was more distinctive the more she spoke. "Is it Arnie? Did he do something again? No, wait, this must be about Tracey. Damn that girl, she—"

"Mrs. Cassidy," Charles said, holding out his hand while giving the woman an apologetic smile. "None of your children is in trouble. We are actually here to see if Sean would be interested in attending our school."

"Our academy," Erik chimed in, mentally reading that Mrs. Cassidy once dreamed of attending a dance academy of sorts.

Word choice was significant in these types of situations.

Mrs. Cassidy's eyes widened with awe. "An academy? My Sean? Really?"

"That's right," Charles said, not missing a beat. He clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions and—"

"SEAN!" Mrs. Cassidy shouted, turning toward the staircase behind her. "COMPANY!" The next instant, she turned back to Charles. "Now, what kind of academy did you say this was?"

Charles clicked his tongue. "Well…um, I'm not sure—"

_She knows about Sean_, Erik projected to him. He immediately felt the relief that flooded through Charles.

"Oh," the Charles said, smiling. "Well, our academy is for those—"

Sean, shirtless and bare foot, flew down the staircase with pink dragonfly-like wings. He came to an abrupt halt beside his horrified mother, his wings buzzing. Then he yawned.

"Sean Douglass Cassidy!" his mother cried, standing in front of him and giving Charles and the rest of them a terrified expression. "It's a…art project. Sophisticated. He's a genius. This isn't want it looks like."

Sean burped.

Erik crinkled his nose. He knew that this kid was a…free spirit of sorts, but seeing it in person was making Erik uncomfortable. This boy had no sense of self-preservation, he was spoiled, he had made foolish choices in the past—

He was the closest mutant to the mansion that was powerful enough to possibly help Erik achieve his goals.

"Mrs. Cassidy," Charles said, "I assure you it is quite alright. Our academy is actually for gifted people like Sean."

Sean's and Mrs. Cassidy's eyebrows shot up.

"Seriously?" Sean said, landing on his feet. "There are people with wings?"

As Charles went on explaining what mutants were, Alex took out some quarters from his pocket and made them float around his hand several times.

Sean bypassed Charles to watch Alex perform his mediocre trick. "Sweet! That's awesome, man."

Alex grinned. "Thanks. Your wings are badass. How high can you go?"

"I can get as high as I want."

His mother smacked him on the back of the head.

"Not really," Sean amended, cringing while smiling at his mom.

* * *

Talking to humans about mutant matters was awkward for Erik, but luckily, the talk with both of Sean's parents went smoothly and quickly. They were so relieved that there were people who could help Sean control his freakishness—their thoughts, not Erik's—that they were eager to send him off to this experimental within an hour's notice. All Erik, Charles, and Alex had to do was wait for Sean to get packed.

It didn't quite feel right to Erik, but he ultimately got what he wanted, so he didn't outright complain. He, Charles, and Alex agreed to wait by their car until Sean was ready to go.

Leaning against the car in between Charles and Alex now, Erik was aware that both of them felt the same bittersweet-ness he felt.

_They try to care about their son_, Erik projected to Charles. _They just don't understand._

Charles cocked an eyebrow at him. _I think they _do _care about Sean, Erik. But you are right. They don't understand. They are worried and ignorant, which is a logical response when something strange has happened to your child._

_ Strange_, Erik repeated. The word made his gut recoil. _It isn't right to perceive mutation as strange._

_ It is different than what people are used to. It won't be forever though—not if we are willing to be patient._

Erik huffed at that, shaking his head. _Why must you be so compassionate, Charles? You must know how little compassion means when it comes from people who are _different_._

Charles's thoughts and emotions became garbled then. The shapeshifter's eyes glistening with hurt, he turned to Erik as if to accuse the man of being cruel. However, Charles didn't think this, nor did he feel this way. He was just…hurt…and lost.

Guilt churned within Erik, and he turned away. Perhaps the words were a little harsh, but they were true. He couldn't bring himself to take them back.

* * *

That night, while Charles and Raven were still helping Sean and Armando get settled in their respective rooms, Erik decided to distance himself and walk around. Sean, though good-intentioned and kind, was grating on Erik's nerves. More than once, he had been tempted to mentally knock Sean unconscious, but then the kid might refuse to help him after that.

Sighing, Erik rubbed his aching temples. His flesh was weighed by fatigue, and his mind was suffering for it. He was too tired to even try to filter out the mental noises that penetrated his brain—Raven's excitement, Sean's curiosity, Charles's uncertainty and pain—

Erik snapped his eyes shut.

_Perhaps compassion is pointless,_ Charles thought. _It won't be enough to save me, anyway. Still…the others…there has to be hope for them. There has to be. Raven, Hank…they deserve so much better than this._

Erik forced himself to stop listening and walk faster. The loneliness, the rejection—Charles was riddled with it, and all because of one pessimistic comment Erik had made. It made the older man's chest constrict.

Charles was the one who deserved better. However, he was probably right…he probably wouldn't get it in his lifetime. And all because he was a mutant.

Erik's eyes ablaze, his nostrils flared, he found himself striding into the Cerebro-room. His anger—part protective, part self-righteous—consumed his senses, and he had merely been following his instinct when he walked into the room. He hadn't known that he was gravitating toward someone else's anger, similar to his own.

Erik jolted back a bit when he saw Alex, fists clenched at his side, standing in front of Cerebro.

Flashes of a boy—a preteen with dark hair and red shades—assaulted Erik, making him flinch and grab his head. Concentrating, he forced the memories and the emotions aside and tried to think as himself.

"I'll find him," Erik grunted to Alex. The telepath forced himself to stand straight, even as his head throbbed. "It's only a matter of time."

"What if he left New York?" Alex said, shaking his head. "What if he's dead?"

"You didn't seem this concerned earlier."

"Then you weren't paying attention," he snapped.

Erik frowned.

Alex let out a long breath, and after a few seconds, his form loosened. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned to Erik with a look of regret. "I'm sorry. I know you have a hard time with…" The blonde motioned toward his head. "And you're right. Earlier, I was just so happy about finding someone else like us—like me—that I…I actually forgot about my own brother for a little while." Alex clenched his teeth and lowered his gaze to the floor. "And if—when we do find Scott, he'll know I forgot about him. He'll just know, and I can't take it back or fix it."

Erik felt pity worm its way out of his heart. It was a hideous sensation, but he couldn't seem to get rid of it. He normally didn't waste time with such emotions, and he wasn't sure what to do with it now.

"I'm sorry," he said after several seconds of silence. His face twisted with disgust. "I don't know what to tell you."

Alex sighed. "It's okay. I don't know what I want you to tell me, anyway."

That wasn't a satisfying response. Alex…he was a good kid—a victim of this society and…and Erik supposed they were friends now. If it weren't for Alex, they never would have met Raven and they never would have been led to this mansion.

Determined and somewhat protective, Erik walked up until he was standing beside the blonde.

Alex gave him a curious look.

"It's normal to forget about painful things from time to time," Erik said, keeping his gaze forward as he thought. Memories—the ones he usually struggled not to reflect on—gave him the wisdom he needed for this situation. "It's an instinctive way to protect ourselves. If we focused on pain and loss every second of every day, we'd lose our minds."

Alex glanced away and swallowed.

Erik turned to him. The kid's facial muscles twitched and his eyes watered. He was clearly trying so hard to not fall apart when he had every right to.

"You're a good brother," Erik said, certainty strengthening his tone. "Remember, I know everything about you. You did everything you could for Scott. When he lost control of his abilities, you took the blame for him. You took the arrest for destruction of property, you took the burden of your family's fear and rejection, you took all the cruel labels from people—from the police." Erik's blood boiled to the point where it was hard to breathe. Rage made his body quiver, but he forced himself to at least appear calm. He needed to focus on Alex right now. "Your only offense is that you're not perfect."

Alex swallowed again. For a second, it seemed like he was going to be okay—like he was going to make an awkward joke of some sort and walk away.

Erik—his telepathy being selectively useful apparently—was startled when the blonde kid spun around and hugged him. Alex immediately buried his face into Erik's shoulder and cried.

Erik wrapped his arms around the trembling boy. And it didn't feel awkward or unpleasant. If anything, it made Erik feel relieved. He was there with this kid—to help, to protect, and to just be there and do whatever he could.

_Thanks_, Alex projected.

Erik rubbed circles in his back. Rather than respond, Erik let some of his emotions seep into Alex's psyche.

He smiled when Alex tightened his grip.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys,**

**Unfortunately, no one participated in my contest, so that choose-your-paring oneshot (Cherik oneshot, most likely) will be put on hold for the time being.**

**Thank you all for your patience! I hope you all like this chapter. It's got some action in it. :D**

**-Sandy**

Charles and Raven went with Erik on the next recruiting mission, this one to Manhattan.

After his sister had parked the car—a terrifying experience for Charles—the three them traveled several blocks on foot. By the time they reached the street corner they were looking for, evening was settling in.

People bustled about in herds down the sidewalks, the streets packed with honking cars. The air had a slight chill to it, but sweat still coated the back of Charles's neck. Large crowds always made him nervous, and people were constantly bumping into him. He smiled at them and apologized in response, his heart racing.

Erik clamped a hand on his shoulder. As Charles jumped and turned toward him, Erik pointed at something up ahead. "That's Angel Salvadore."

Charles looked over to where he was pointing. There was a young Latina woman—Angel Salvadore—in a…tantalizing outfit. She had her hands on her hips and her chin jutted upward as she glared at the two officers saying something to her.

Though guilt swirled in Charles's chest, he still asked Erik if she was a prostitute.

Erik nodded.

Raven grimaced, her eyes glued on the police officers. "Well, we better get her out of trouble then."

Erik clamped his other hand on her shoulder while still holding on to Charles's shoulder. He stood between the two siblings in a rigid stance. "Be careful. We don't want to scare her."

People pushed against them, some of them angry about the human-wall Erik had created on the sidewalk. Charles apologized, but Erik didn't budge.

"Why?" Raven asked, leaning toward Erik. "What will happen?"

"She'll vanish."

"Vanish?" Raven's eyes widened with excitement. "Invisibility?"

"Teleportation."

"Whoa. I kind of want to see that."

"Later," Erik growled, releasing her and Charles and walking forward. "Come on."

Charles did his best to maneuver around people and follow Erik, but Raven and Erik got a lot closer to Angel than Charles did in a matter of seconds. Frustrated, Charles kept his head up and continued his move forward. It was then that he noticed someone else entirely had reached Angel before Erik and Raven could, and this new person's appearance had Erik stopping dead in his tracks.

The blonde woman in question had encased her arms around Angel while saying something to the officers that, eventually, made them wander away uncertainly.

Charles managed to reach a stunned Erik as Raven glanced back at him with a confused expression.

"Erik?" Charles said, touching the man's arm. "What's wrong? Who is that?"

Erik's face was completely blank, but his eyes bulged. It was as if he was in a deep trance, and given his mutant ability, Charles figured he probably was.

Swallowing, Charles grabbed Erik's elbow and shook it. "Erik? Erik? You need to snap out of this."

Erik inhaled sharply. Fear flashed over his features before anger hardened them. He bolted forward, out of Charles's grip. "She's working for Schmidt."

Charles's lungs tightened. He couldn't breathe—couldn't think. They weren't ready for this. Panic surged through him, and he instinctively took a step back.

Erik shoved past Raven.

A whole new kind of fear seized Charles, and he found himself running forward before he could even think to do so. He reached out for Raven in hopes of preventing her from doing something reckless while he stared after Erik, who was definitely about to do something reckless.

"Wait!" Charles said, missing his sister by inches as she hurried after Erik. "Stop!"

Angel spun around to gape at the three of them, running toward her. For one second, Charles could see the fear in her eyes. In the next second, she did what Erik said she would do: she vanished.

Raven stopped, but Erik didn't slow. He tackled the blonde woman to the ground.

Heart hammering, Charles put himself in front of his sister. His arm holding her back, Charles was torn between staying with her and moving forward to help Erik. The indecision and panic ripped his heart into shreds. "Erik!" _What if she—_

Charles heard Erik's scream in his mind. The sound made Charles cry out and stumble back. Pain radiated from his mind, and he clutched his skull in response. _Erik! What's happening?! Erik!_

"Charles!" Raven shouted, shoving him to the ground.

Charles looked up and saw his sister being attacked by the strange blonde woman—her head now looking as if it was made of glass or diamond.

Most people screamed and ran away. A few of them—the fools—stayed to watch.

Raven's body absorbed the punches with ease and she released the energy a second later against her opponent. The waves of energy shoved the woman back about a foot, but it did no real damage.

As Raven stood her ground—Charles shakily getting up on his feet—the woman's head returned to normal, but her skin shifted jiggled in an odd, water-like way.

"Let's try this again," the woman said, her voice lilting. She smirked before running forward.

Charles cried out again, but Raven dodged the attack and punched the woman's throat—

The woman's throat morphed into a rocky substance, as did the rest of her body. Raven was clearly shocked by this, for she didn't move.

The woman took advantage of this and punched Raven in the face.

"Stop!" Charles said.

Raven shot out energy-waves again, but this time, they had no effect on the rock-woman. And the next time the woman hit Raven, she did it so hard that it shoved Raven into the street.

"Raven!" Charles ran toward his sister, but it was no use.

A small car, trying to skid to an abrupt halt, crashed into her. As she absorbed the massive impact, other cars crashed into that car. Other vehicles still swerved into other lanes—onto sidewalks.

Charles could only pray that Erik was safe—that Raven could handle all of that energy coursing through her. He screamed again and ran toward her while mentally calling out for Erik. He thought he heard Erik whisper his name before the rock-woman knocked Charles unconscious.

* * *

Agony pulsated within Charles face and head. Sounds—blaring, confusing—marred his comprehension of reality. Though his eyes were already closed, he closed them tighter against the pain.

When he was able to notice that there were people near him, he immediately made sure he wasn't in his original form. He moved his arm, feeling heavier than normal, over his torso; he was wearing clothes, and his skin felt like flesh. Regardless, he tensed his muscles the right way and he shapeshifted a jacket over his chest.

Someone gasped. Others whispered.

He forced his eyelids apart.

The sky was a dark gray, stars peeking out from the gaps in the clouds. Cars were honking, sirens were blaring in the distan—

"Raven," Charles breathed, memories assaulting his aching head. "Erik."

It took a great deal of effort, but he managed to rise to his feet. Wobbling, he clutched his head and closed his eyes. Everything seemed too bright—too loud. But he had to find Raven and Erik.

_Erik?_ Hope and dread warred in Charles's heart. _Erik? Are you alright?_

The mental response was muddled. It hurt to try to interpret what the noises meant, but he focused on them, anyway. Perhaps they would lead him to Erik.

He stumbled forward. When he tripped over his own feet, he forced himself to look up. It took a few excruciating moments, but once his vision cleared, his body went ice cold.

There was a giant crater in the middle of street. Smoking cars were toppled beside it, and a pipe had been severed, for water was leaking out and creating a massive puddle over the asphalt.

In the center of the crater was Raven. She was on her hands and knees, her entire form trembling.

"Raven!"

Slowly, his sister raised her head. Her eyes were pink and dazed as she searched the area for him.

Charles, gaining strength by the second, moved as quickly as he could to her side. He tripped over the crumbled asphalt, nearly falling on top of her, but he caught himself and roughly grabbed her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

She wasn't looking at him but at their surroundings. "We need to leave," she croaked.

He looked around, too. People were gaping at them like they were monsters. Some were morbidly curious, but most of them were hiding behind cars and shaking.

The sirens were getting louder.

Charles swallowed. "We need to find Erik."

He helped Raven stand up, but she had to lean on him as they walked away. Her skin was icy, and her breath came out in thin wisps.

"It'll be alright," Charles said, even as his own fear choked his voice. "I've got you."

"There he is," Raven said, nodding his head toward the right.

Charles's head snapped in that direction. Erik was lying on the side walk, his eyes closed tight and his mouth ajar.

_Erik!_

More incoherent noise entered Charles's mind.

He and Raven moved as fast as they could toward their fallen friend, Charles mentally yelling Erik's name all the while. When they reached him, Charles and Raven fell on their knees. Raven grabbed Erik's arm while Charles grabbed his collar. They both shook Erik until he woke, groggy and irritated.

_The police are coming_, Charles projected. _We need to leave._

_Where's Emma?_

"Who?" Charles asked.

Erik, leaning on Raven and Charles, stood up. Together, they all walked away from the scene and down an alleyway.

"That woman," Erik growled. "Where is she?"

"She got away," Raven said, breathless. She swayed, making Charles and Erik stumble. "Sorry."

"Let's just get out of here," Charles said. _Thank God we're still alive._

Erik projected some conflicting emotions, but one of them was a sense of relief. Charles chose to focus that.

* * *

It was night as they sat in the medical wing of the mansion. Hank had assured them that Erik and Raven were fine—just overexerted—but he had also insisted that they spend the night in medbay just in case.

Naturally, Charles and Alex stayed down there with them.

"How do you think Sean and Armando are getting along here?" Charles asked Alex after a long moment of awkward silence. They were both sitting on the bed beside Raven's bed.

Raven, wrapped in several blankets, snored soundly. Hank snored from his own bed on the other side of the medbay.

Erik, standing next to Alex, glared at Charles. "Is that really what you want to talk about now?"

Charles winced. "No, but I can't keep focusing on…" He let his gaze wander over to his sister. _I could have lost her and you today._ He shivered at the thought, becoming nauseous. "No, I just…I need to process this."

"What's to process?" Erik asked, his words venomous. "Schmidt's lackey got away because you froze."

Bafflement flared within Charles. "Excuse me?"

Erik jabbed a finger in his direction. "You did nothing but watch as she attacked us."

"You mean as you attacked her." Charles's eyes stung, agonizing anger and guilt burning his blood. "You charged after her without a second's notice, putting all of us in danger."

"She's working for Schmidt."

"Yes, you've mentioned that."

"That's who we're going after. That's what this whole thing has been about."

_Not all of it_, Charles reminded him. The shapeshifter suddenly felt too tired to have any kind of argument with a man as passionate and dense as Erik. _Our safety comes first._

The utter sense of betrayal that emanated from Erik's psyche shocked Charles. For a moment, Charles didn't know how to respond to it; it seemed too absurd.

"You're a coward," Erik said, soft and certain. Shaking his head, he trudged toward the bed next to Hank's and got into it.

Charles blinked at him. Again, he was more shocked than hurt by this. Did Erik truly feel that way? Was his vengeance so valuable to him that he would let them all die so that he could obtain it?

"They're fine," Alex said, kicking his legs out.

Charles furrowed his brow at him. "What?"

"Sean and Armando," Alex said. He cleared his throat and glanced at the ground. "They're doing fine here."

"Right. Good."

More awkward silence ensued.

"I probably could have kicked her ass," Alex said, sounding partially guilty, partially prideful.

"Maybe," Charles relented, still staring at Erik. "Her mutation though…I don't even know what to call it. With every attack, she seemed to develop a defensive means against it. I…" He swallowed again, anger and grief warring with each other. "I'm not sure what Erik thought I'd be able to do."

_Fight_, Erik projected.

_But why? Why are you so keen on taking the violent route?_

Erik didn't answer—didn't even project an emotion.

Charles sighed.


	12. Chapter 12

**As always, thank you guys so much for your story-favorites, story-alerts, reviews, etc.. I really appreciate them. :)**

**This chapter is in Raven's POV, and then Erik's POV. I had to change the pov-pattern a bit for the plot to work.**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

The next morning, Raven was still bedridden in the medbay. She repeatedly told Hank that she felt fine, just a little tingly and tired, but he was adamant that she stay as motionless as possible. It didn't help that Charles, Erik, and the rest of the group—even Sean and Armando—had sided with Hank. She knew they were just taking care of her, but appearing helpless in front of people made her flesh itch.

Raven sat up in bed. That helped a little with the flesh-itching.

"Emma Frost," Erik said, standing in the middle of the medbay and facing her, Charles, and the rest of the group. "I read some of her thoughts before she managed to block me out. She's helping Schmidt recruit mutants."

Charles, Alex, Sean, and Armando sat on beds adjacent to Raven's while Hank stood off to the side. They were all focused on Erik.

From what Raven understood, Erik had already relayed this information to Charles, Hank, and Alex last night, but not to everyone else.

"Her mutation is rapid adaption," Erik continued, making eye contact with Raven. "Her body instinctively shapeshifts into a particular form that protects her from a particular threat. She even managed to shapeshift into something that I couldn't reach with my telepathy." His face twisted with frustration.

"What does Schmidt want with mutants?" Raven asked. Her face heated up when she heard how scratchy and pathetic her voice sounded, but she pretended not to notice it.

"I don't know," Erik said, his frown deepening. "All I know is that he is doing it, and he is succeeding if Emma Frost is any indication." He turned to Hank. "If I can get to Frost again, maybe I can get more information out of her before she…" He waved his hand about.

"You mean interrogate her, right?" Alex asked. He crossed his arms and leaned back a little. "Because it doesn't sound like your telepathy will do much good against her."

Erik released a breath through his mouth. Exasperation and resignation stiffened his expression and his posture. "Maybe."

"It'll be hard to find her," Hank said. He pushed his fists into his pockets. "If she really is immune to telepathy, then Cerebro is useless."

"She's not immune," Erik said defensively. "Not permanently, anyway. Cerebro should work in locating her."

"Then what?" Charles asked, a hint of anger in his tone. "We capture her? Make her a prisoner of our little war?"

Startled, Raven turned to her brother. She knew he was shaken up from yesterday's attack, but she hadn't known he was angry about it. She felt conflicted about that—partially being annoyed by Charles's anger, yet feeling somewhat guilty that she hadn't read him as well as she should have. Unsure of which emotion to lead with, she pressed her lips together.

Erik glared at Charles, and Charles glared right back at Erik. For several seconds, no one said a word.

Raven realized that they must have been having a mental argument with one another. She rolled her eyes before pinching the bridge of her nose. "Guys, use your voices. We can't all hear you."

"We are recruiting students," Charles said without missing a beat. He was still glaring at Erik. "They should come before vengeance."

A look of fury marred Erik's face, making him downright murderous.

"We are also recruiting to stop a madman," Raven said, a bit disturbed by how red Erik's face was getting. She turned to Charles, who looked at with a hint of betrayal in his gaze. "And, if Schmidt really is recruiting others to help him with something, then I guess it kind of is a war."

"You could have died," Charles snapped, swallowing instantly after he had spoken. His anger seemed to quickly deteriorate then, a solemn fear taking its place.

"It's a risk I agreed to take," Raven said. She gave her brother a sad smile. She still felt guilty about not helping him through this better, but—as she thought about it now—it might have been because she felt fine with everything. Perhaps it was a sense of denial, but she wasn't as scared as she thought she would be after fighting with another mutant. If anything, she felt stronger. "It's a risk we are all agreeing to take, and it's because we think it is the right thing to do. It's alright to be scared—to want to opt out, if you need to—but I'm not going anywhere. This is a good cause, Charles."

Charles bellowed out a sigh and shook his head.

Erik seemed to calm considerably, and he nodded his gratitude toward Raven.

Someone clapped at a slow rhythm, bringing a sharp sound into the quiet air.

Raven jumped, furrowed her brow, and then looked over to where Sean was sitting. He was still slow-clapping while glancing at everyone.

Everyone just gaped at him.

Sean (his wings retracted into his back) eventually stopped, holding his hands awkwardly in front of his chest. "We're not doing—sorry, I thought we were doing the thing." He waved his hands out before placing them in his lap. His back buzzed a little as he grinned at them sheepishly.

Raven shook her head.

"I'm going to use Cerebro to find Frost," Erik said without missing a beat. He turned to Hank. "I need your help."

Hank turned to Raven with a look of uncertainty.

"Go, Hank," Raven said, frustration seeping into her words. "I'm fine."

"Charles?" Erik said, turning to him. "I need you, too."

Charles's head fell back, his face weighted with exasperation, before he reluctantly stood up. "I suppose you do."

"I'll go, too," Alex said, hopping up from the bed. He wiggled his fingers. "You know, in case you guys need saving from the machines."

"Where would we be without you?" Erik said sarcastically as he led the group out of the medbay.

"Screwed," Alex said after him.

Hank then preceded to explain to Alex why his answer didn't make sense—"It is as if you are saying there is a city named 'Screwed'"—and Raven was grateful when the four men finally got out of earshot. She really didn't need to hear any more grammar lectures from Hank.

Raven relaxed and turned her attention to Sean and Armando, sitting to her left. "So, are you guys scared straight yet?"

The two of them nodded.

"A little," Sean said. "Is Erik, like, an assassin or something?"

"Maybe," Raven said.

"What about that adapting-lady you fought?" Armando asked. He was wringing his wrists and twisting the sleeves of the new jacket Raven had bought him. Clean-shaven and nicely dressed, Armando was a handsome young man. "What was she like?"

"Good," Raven said seriously. "Very good. And quick. We'll need to train a lot harder if we are going to face her and others like her."

Armando nodded, determination hardening his expression.

"Right, right," Sean said nervously. He pursed his lips and tilted his head, his eyes fogged with confusion. "Who is Schmidt again?"

Raven and Armando gave him an incredulous look.

* * *

Erik shook his head as walked into the Cerebro-room. His mind was reaching out to the minds in the medbay for some reason, and he needed it to stop. He needed to focus. His head pounded when he forced himself out of the others' minds, and he was barely able to suppress a wince.

_You alright?_ Charles asked him.

"You alright?" Alex asked him a second later. "You're making a weird face."

Erik settled into Cerebro without looking at either of them. "I'm fine." As he pulled the helmet over his head, he locked eyes with Charles.

Charles was frowning at him. Anger and fear radiated off the shapeshifter—has been radiating off the shapeshifter since yesterday. It was getting on Erik's nerves, and he gritted his teeth against the sensation.

Erik turned his gaze to Hank, who was dutifully working. Erik cleared his throat. "Ready, Hank?"

Hank pushed a few buttons on one machine, then messed with a few switches on another machine. "I am now," he said. "You?"

"Yes. Do it."

Cerebro once again worked perfectly. Erik's body tensed as electricity—adrenaline—power—rushed through his blood. His brain ached, yet it also felt liberated. He couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips.

For a couple of minutes, Erik telepathically wandered the area. He had never searched for a specific person through Cerebro before, and he wasn't entirely sure how he should go about it. Still, Frost had to be nearby—or someone who had seen her or was presently seeing her had to be close.

Erik was mentally reaching toward the minds near the northern border of New York City when his head jolted and reeled back. He gasped, baffled. The action hadn't physically hurt, but it felt strange—unnatural.

"Erik?" Charles said from somewhere. His voice seemed to echo in the distance, but Erik knew he was close; he could feel Charles's worry. "Erik? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Erik said breathily. He blinked. "I just—"

_Hello, Erik Lehnsherr._

Erik swore his heart stopped. Icy panic burned through him, constricting his throat and lungs. For a second, he tried to convince himself that the voice he had heard in his head wasn't real—wasn't clear and wasn't familiar. His eyes wide, Erik glanced around him, but he could see nothing—couldn't verify what was real and what wasn't.

_I assure you, I am real, Erik_, the voice said.

_No,_ Erik responded. He meant to convey rage, but the word came out shaky and weak.

_You remember me, don't you? I know you do or you wouldn't respond to me with such terror._

_ I'm not afraid of you!_

_ You can't lie to me. I am the one person on this earth you can never lie to._

"Erik?" Charles said. He sounded so distant, so scared.

"I'm fine," he growled back to Charles. And then to the voice—the all too familiar voice, he said, _How are you doing this? How are you so easy to hear?_

_ You've always been a dense one. I'm afraid I don't have time to explain the obvious to you. There are other things we need to discuss._

_ Why don't we discuss things face to face?_ Erik snarled. _Where are you?_

_ In time, in time. For now, you should know we are on the same side. We always have been, but past circumstances were…unfortunate. _

Erik trembled with rage. He grinded his teeth together, and he wished more than anything that he could reach and choke this person. _What the hell are you talking about?_

_ Humans are a dying breed. They are weaker than what we are, and they know it. It is only a matter of time before we 'mutants,' as you call us, take control over the earth. It is nature's way, after all._

Once again, Erik felt himself go ice cold. _You're a mutant?_

_ I prefer to think of us as homosuperiors, but yes. Now keep up. I know you feel the same way as I do about humans—cruel, cruel creatures. I know everything about you, Erik, and I could use someone like you in my army._

_ What?_

_Like you, I grow tired of humans' horrid behavior toward us. We are superior, and yet we hide ourselves like cowards? It is sickening. Why not hurry nature's process a little? Make a world a peaceful place for those who deserve to live in it?_

Erik blinked rapidly, irritated and embarrassed by the tears he felt weighing in his eyes. _You're a liar. No, worse than that, you killed my mother. I don't care what you are—_

_ I'm a telepath, Erik._

Erik shut his eyes tight. Self-loathing mixed in with his other emotions, and it was almost too much for him to take.

_And my name is not Klaus Schmidt. It is Sebastian Shaw. And I know this is a lot for you to take in, but I need you, Erik. Please, think about my offer._

_ You're not giving me much to go on._

_ In time, son. In time._

_ Don't call me—_

White lights blinded Erik, his comprehension vanishing. Though he felt no pain, he thought he could feel himself cry out. Then he lost consciousness.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys,**

**Thank you all for reviewing, story-favoriting, etc.. I know waiting every month for a chapter can get frustrating, so I appreciate your patience. :D**

**We finally get the group on the same page in this chapter! I'm really excited about continuing that on in future chapters, too.**

**All the best,**

**Sandy**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

It was days later when Erik awoke, much to Charles's great relief. However, at the same time, the shapeshifter couldn't help but be frustrated and irritated by this whole process. How many times were they going to hurt Erik before they realized they needed to be more careful? Everyone was so damn goal-oriented though—and Charles used to be, too, before he met Erik…before he witnessed Erik fall into his first coma.

Erik bolted out of bed in the medical bay, making Charles jump up to his feet and his heart race. "Erik, thank God—" Charles turned toward the room's exit. "Hank! Hank!"

"Schmidt's a mutant," Erik spat, stumbling around the bed. He gripped the bed's railing to get a better sense of footing, but he still swayed. "And his name is Shaw."

Charles hurried over to help him, but Erik swatted him away and glared. Charles swallowed down his defensive anger. "Erik—"

"He's a telepath," Erik said.

The words finally struck Charles, who no longer thought his friend was babbling groggy nonsense. He gaped at Erik with dread. "How do you—?" Charles jolted when Erik grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. The pressure was both grounding and terrifying, making the shapeshifter's head spin.

Hank came bursting in then, his hands ghosting over Erik's head and eyes. "You shouldn't be out of bed," the doctor said. "I need to examine—"

"Enough," Erik growled, flinching away from Hank's gentle touch. "Where is everyone? Get me to them now."

Hank protested, but Erik wouldn't hear it. And, despite his own discomfort about the situation, Charles's sided with Erik.

"It's vital," Charles said to Hank.

Hank tensed, his eyes imploring Charles for a couple of seconds before he relented. "Very well. They are all eating dinner in the kitchen."

Erik released Charles and pushed by Hank to exit the medical bay, Charles and Hank instantly following.

When they entered the kitchen, Erik's voice seemed to boom as he addressed the group eating while they sat on the counters. Based on the rushed way he spoke, Charles believed he made several rash decisions within a matter of the last couple of moments. "I need all of you to relax as best as you can and let me show you something."

"Erik!" Raven said, hopping off the counter and setting her plate aside. She hurried toward him, her face bright with joy. "We were so—"

He held up his hand, and she abruptly stopped and blinked at him.

"I'm tired of arguing," Erik said, glancing over everyone. "If you let me telepathically show you what I know, then I think you will understand the present danger better."

Alex scooted off the counter and came up to stand next to Raven. "Sure. Whatever you need." His fork still in his hand, Alex took another bite of food from his plate.

Raven cocked an eyebrow at him but said nothing.

Sean and Armando glanced at one another nervously before their eyes scanned Erik with skepticism and fear. Sean, his wings tucked beneath his shirt, raised the plate he was holding and took several quick bites from it. Then he set the plate aside and went over to stand next to Alex.

"Seriously?" Armando asked him.

Sean glanced back and shrugged. "Seems important."

Armando dropped his head and let out a haggard sigh. Before Charles could reassure him, the man was already setting aside his own plate and going over to stand next to Sean. Then Armando crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Erik. "You're not going to brainwash us, right?"

"It's not like you could stop me," Erik retorted.

"Erik," Charles said warningly.

The telepath released a huff, a vulnerable expression making his eyes glisten. "I don't think I will be able to hold back my emotions on the matter, but the information I am sharing with you is true. I swear it."

Charles relaxed a little, comforted by his friend's sincerity. Nodding, Charles said. "Alright then. I consent to it, as well."

"Me, too," Hank said.

Erik swallowed, bringing his large hands up to his temples. He closed his eyes tight, his forehead wrinkling as he concentrated.

Charles inhaled shakily, a sudden fear spiking through him. Would this hurt? Would—

Memories that were not his own burst within Charles's mind. He saw the concentration camp Erik had been tortured in—he saw Schmidt's face for the first time through Erik's young eyes—he felt his friend's rage and panic when he first realized that Emma Frost was working with Schmidt—and then he felt and heard Schmidt's taunting words inside his own skull…no, not Schmidt, _Shaw_…

Charles gasped and stumbled back, his blood tingling and his brain pounding. To be immersed in someone's presence like that…he had no words to describe it, but it left him in a bit of dazed. His own sense of existence was fragile now, and he had to concentrate on his own heartbeat—his own breathing.

"Holy shit," Sean breathed.

Charles looked over at him. The boy was clutching his head and pacing around in a circle. He said "holy shit" multiple times in a choked whisper.

Armando just blinked at Erik with glazed eyes.

Hank stared upon Erik with awe and obvious curiosity. "That was…" He shook his head and pressed his lips together. It seemed as if he, too, couldn't find the right words.

Alex and Raven looked a little dizzy, but other than that, they seemed fine.

Erik lowered his hands. His gaze flitted over all of them, but when it landed on Charles, it stayed there. Concern, guilt—but mostly desperation—shown in Erik's face. The telepath took a deep breath. "It was different when I thought Shaw was human, but now…I can't stop him alone."

For a few seconds, Charles thought he was looking into a mirror as he stared at Erik. His heart ached for the telepath, just as it hammered with fear. "We need to train," Charles said.

Erik's eyebrows shot up, shock slackening his features.

"No shit," Alex said.

Warmth and hope encased Charles's psyche. Charles smiled, recognizing that the sensations were not his own.

_Thank you_, Erik communicated to him.

Charles gave him a small nod. _I was stubborn, but…I think I do understand now. Shaw needs to be stopped, and for that to happen…this must be a military school, of sorts._ The idea felt acidic in Charles's mind, but he still thought it the right course of action. _When Shaw is dealt with, we can continue with the school's original goal. But if he is coming after us…after everyone…_

"So you recruited us for a little war," Armando said quietly, gaining everyone's attention. He still seemed to be in shock—not angry or terrified, just…shocked. "I'm not sure how monkey feet is going to help you with that."

"I cried when I stepped on an ant yesterday," Sean whined, his hands dropping in front of him. "I can't go up against a Nazi psychopath!"

"Not alone," Erik said, shaking his head. "But together, we can use all of our skills to stop him."

"Stop him from what?" Raven asked. "You never specified."

Erik lowered his gaze. "I'm not completely sure yet. But he is recruiting mutants for an army. Whatever he's up to, you can bet it isn't good. From what I could gather, it involves all mutants though. If not now, his actions will effect each one of us at some point."

"We need to train," Charles repeated. He turned to Sean and Armando and tried not to wince as he said, "If any one of you does not want to be a part of this, we cannot force you to be. But if you stay and help us, we have a better chance at defeating Shaw."

Armando pursed his lips, his expression clouded with consideration. "I guess it beats living on the streets."

Sean gave a humorless laugh. "Great. So if I want to book it, I'm going to be the only coward?" When no one responded to him, he groaned. "Fine, fine. I'm in. Just…just don't let me die, okay?"

Charles swallowed thickly. _Don't let any of them die._

_ Not if I can help it,_ Erik responded.

* * *

Charles wasn't sure about the rest of them, but the images of Shaw continued to torment him—the man's face, his words, the things he had done to Erik as a child…Charles couldn't cope with it. He could only imagine how Erik had survived with these memories for so long.

_I managed_, Erik mentally said.

Charles jumped, shame flooding through him. _Forgive me, I didn't mean to—_

_ It's fine, Charles. I understand. Just focus on the task at hand._

"Right," Charles said aloud, clutching his hands together.

The whole group was standing outside, in the back where they had acres of land and space to practice in. They all looked as uncertain as Charles felt.

"Why don't we start with Hank and Sean?" Charles suggested. "An open field is a great place to practice your mutations."

Hank agreed while Sean chuckled nervously and pulled off his shirt. His wings unfolded themselves and twitched.

"What do you want us to do?" Sean asked.

"Let's see how fast you can fly," Erik said, nodding toward the trees in the distant. "Fly to the end of the property and fly back. I'll time you."

Sean perked up a little. "Oh. That sounds kind of cool, actually."

"Starting now," Erik said.

Sean startled, furrowing his brow at Erik. When Erik sneered and yelled at him to get going, Sean flinched before jumping into the air and flying off in the direction Erik had motioned toward.

_You don't have a stop watch,_ Charles projected to Erik. Though the shapeshifter was confused and a bit annoyed by Erik's tactics, he still couldn't help but watch with fascination as Sean buzzed away at rapid speeds. _What is the true purpose of this?_

_He needs to release some nervous energy,_ Erik responded. _He has a hard enough time focusing without also panicking about what lays ahead._

Charles relented at that—it _was_ true—and turned to Hank. "You've been mastering your control, if I remember correctly. Care to show us?"

Hank blushed and pushed his glasses closer toward his face. "I don't know about 'mastering,' but I have gained a better sense of control." He quickly walked away from the group until he was several yards away from them. Then, aiming his right arm toward the sky, he twirled the limb faster and faster while squinting at nothing in particular. Soon, a small tornado surrounded his arm. Though some of the winds lashed out every so often, the small phenomenon stayed mostly in place.

Erik raised his hand, and Hank slowed the tornado until it no longer existed. "It's a good start," Erik said, "but it won't be enough against Shaw. Can you make it bigger while still keeping it in control?"

Hank shook his head. "Any bigger, and the forces become too strong from me to contain."

Erik frowned and rubbed his chin.

_It's not so much the wind_, Charles projected, _but the air particles that Hank can manipulate. It is similar to Alex's control over metal. Though we still don't completely understand why their genetics only allows them to focus on one type of matter, I theorize that they are like that because they are not developed enough to handle more than one element._

_ That's interesting, Charles, but what's your point?_

_ I know you want to fight fire with fire when it comes to Shaw, but let's start by thinking smaller first._ Before Erik could protest, Charles approached Hank. "My friend, you are amazingly detailed-oriented, but in this case, I think it might be hindering you."

Hank lowered his brow. "How so?"

"You are trying to control something that is constantly out of control. Particles are so small and quick-moving that it is impossible to fully focus on one, let alone several of them at once." Charles brought his hands together, using his pressed pointer fingers to point at Hank. "I have had a lot of time to catch up on my research—what with Erik's comas and all—and I have found the concept of meditation to reach Nirvana the most intriguing, especially in your case."

Charles nearly laughed when Hank gave him an incredulous look. "Religion, Charles? Seriously?"

"Science, Hank," Charles said, his tone and gaze challenging. "My suggestion to you is to let go of your focus—just simply exist and feel. And when you are ready, guide the wind in a particular direction."

Hank studied him for a moment before sighing. "I suppose I am a scientist—a man of testing theories."

Charles gave him an encouraging smile before returning to stand beside Erik and the others. Erik glanced over at him curiously. Charles kept his attention on Hank though, who had closed his eyes and relaxed the tension in his form. A few awkward moments past when no one said or did anything, just waited. At one point, Charles held his breath in anticipation, eager to see if something amazing would happen.

It was subtle, at first—the breeze that brushed past them. It was so subtle in fact that Charles hadn't even considered that that had been Hank's doing. Erik had though.

_It's working_, Erik projected, a pleased smile gracing his lips. He mentally conveyed pride to Charles. _Nicely done._

_ I don't see it, _Charles confessed.

_Just wait. It's getting stronger._

More than that, the winds were becoming more active. As if having invisible tentacles, the air danced around them and slapped at their legs and arms like a gentle whip. Then the winds did become stronger, and they moved away from Charles and the group to assault some bushes. With the whipping motions and the sheer strength of the air, it was as if the bushes exploded where they were.

They all jumped and gasped.

Hank inhaled sharply, his eyes snapping open. "Oh my God," he said. "That…I had never felt so much at once before."

"That was incredible, Hank!" Raven said. "Just think what you could do once you have mastered your mutation."

Hank smiled, still looking a bit stunned and wondrous.

Sean buzzed back to them in that moment, crashing and tumbling on the ground beside Hank. Hank stumbled back and gaped at the young man, as did the rest of them.

Sean, covered in dirt and some twigs, panted as he slowly got up to his feet. "How fast was I?" he wheezed.

Charles crossed his arms and gave Erik a pointed look.

Erik simply smirked. "Fast, kid," he said proudly. "You were pretty damn fast."


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys,**

**I'm going to get the next chapter post on Dec 18th, and that'll probably be the last bit of the "training montage." :)**

**This time around, the focus is put on Charles and Armando. **

**Thank you all for your reviews, alerts, favorites, etc.. I really appreciate all of those. :)**

**All the best,**

**Sandy**

* * *

Raven felt a little defensive as she led the group into her workout room—her private space. But the group needed to learn some hand-to-hand combat, as well as learn how to use their mutations in small, controlled doses. This place was the safest area in the house for them to throw some punches, practice some defensive stances, and openly use their mutations.

"Armando and Charles," she said once they were all in the center of the room. She pointedly glanced at the two of them. "I think we should start with you two."

Armando frowned with discomfort, but he shrugged and stepped forward, away from the group.

Charles's eyes widened, his gaze shifting back and forth. "Raven, I don't think I'm the one we should focus on."

"Charles," Erik said sternly. He was standing next to her brother, and both of them were tilting their heads a little toward each other.

After a few seconds of those two telepathically communicating, Charles sighed with defeat and stepped forward to stand next to Armando.

Raven smirked. While she wasn't normally a fan of their little private conversations, Erik was doing a good job of convincing Charles to…well, to do just about anything. She gave Erik a sharp nod in gratitude before returning her attention to her brother and Armando. They both were watching her nervously, which encouraged her to be tough yet patient.

She placed her hands on her hips. "The mutations you two have will be more effective on the ground, amidst other people. If you are going to fight—" She softened her expression when Charles's winced. "—or, at least, if you are going to defend yourself and your friends, you need to be prepared for it."

Armando's frown deepened, confusion and a sense of hopeless making his eyes seem vacant. "I still don't get how I'm going to be of any help."

"I trust Erik's judgment," she said, and she was a little surprised by how true the statement was. Erik could be a shady guy sometimes, but when it came to people's potential—when it came to stopping Shaw—he was as trustworthy as they came. "And when he found you, he said you could be helpful. All we need to do now is see how true that is."

Hesitant, insecurity flashed over Armando's expression before he pulled his bare feet out of his socks and shoes. He cracked his ankles, his wrists, and then his neck. After a few seconds of him mentally preparing himself, Armando looked more confidant as he nodded at her.

Raven smiled. "Alright. Now, both of you, let me see your fight stances." Knowing Charles had no idea what that meant, she put up her fists and bended his knees appropriately. "Like this."

Both of the men glanced at one another nervously before attempting to mirror her stance. Simply because she knew Charles too well, the sight of him holding up his pale fists…. Humor burst in her torso, making her lips quirk upward. She heard some of the other guys snigger, as well.

"Not so tense," she said, loosen up.

Both of them went way too lax the next second.

Raven sighed. "Not so loose."

Once they were as ready as they were ever going to be, Raven told them to dodge her punch.

"What?" Charles said, stiffening and leaning back.

A protective anger and fear zapped through Raven. What if Charles wasn't even able to _avoid_ danger? She clenched her teeth, the thought being unacceptable to her. She would save him, whether it was in the midst of battle or merely through this training, she would save her brother.

"Dodge, Charles," she said slowly, letting her emotions seep into her tone. Somewhat slow, she shot out her fist toward her brother's chest.

Charles flew back, stumbling and then falling on his rear. He practically landed on Erik's and Hank's feet.

Frustration churned and tightened Raven's insides, but she had known this was going to take some time and effort. Calming herself, she turned her attention to Armando and ignored the anxiety that tried to take hold of her. "Your turn," she said before shooting out her fist toward his chest.

Armando bended back instantly, his body virtually creating a ninety-degree angle. Then his torso snapped back up.

Raven beamed at him. "That was amazing!"

Armando blinked quickly, his brow furrowing. "Really?"

"Yes. Your balance and strength are incredible. Do that again."

Armando, smiling bashfully, repeated his earlier motion and made his spine parallel with the floor.

Hank quietly gave a few scientific theories of how Armando was accomplishing this feat with such ease while Sean simply said, "Whoa, dude. You could join the circus."

Alex rightfully slapped Sean's head.

"What else can you do?" Raven asked, keeping her focus on the student.

"I'm not sure," Armando said. Wobbling a little, he shuffled over the floor before moving one foot up in the air. Now, he was standing on one foot while his back was severely bended back. "Huh…I can do this."

"Move faster," Raven said.

Armando hopped from foot to foot, his body twisting and moving in all kind of angles and positions. It was as if his body was fluid, and he was incapable of falling over.

"Sorry," Armando said, blushing as he straightened. He scratched the back of his neck and glanced at his feet. "I was goofing off, I know. I got carried away."

"Are you kidding?" Raven came up to him and grabbed his shoulders, making Armando's eyebrows shoot up. "You are incredible. Your flexible, quick, well-balanced—once you get more training, I bet you could totally be a ninja!"

Erik snorted. "Let's not get carried away."

Raven shook her head and winked at Armando. "A ninja."

Armando smiled, his eyes shining with hope and pride. "Try to hit me again. I want to see how quickly I can dodge."

"You got it."

At first, Raven was slow with her motion—here punches and her kicks easy to detect and easy for Armando to dodge. Like before, he twisted and spun, hopped on one foot—hopped on his hands. It was all very impressive.

But once Raven quickened her speed, Armando couldn't calculate fast enough where her next hit was going to land. She managed to land a punch to his stomach, causing him to hop back and shuffle over his feet. His hands snapped to his gut, and he winced.

"Got cocky," he admitted sheepishly.

Raven's arm burned with the excess energy, and she spun around before shooting out that energy into a mat against a wall. Relieved, she turned back around and smiled at Armando's startled expression. "This is the best place to learn humility. And don't worry. You'll get better." She looked at Charles, who was staring at Armando with awe. "Charles. Your turn again."

Her brother groaned, but he stepped forward. "Yes, of course. Don't expect me to be as graceful as that."

"You're graceful in your own way, Charles." She smiled warmly at him, and then glared venomously at Sean as he laughed at her words.

Sean immediately went quiet, coughing awkwardly and glancing away.

Raven released a breath and went back to smiling at Charles. "I know that your shapeshifting takes quite a bit of concentration from you. But maybe there's a way for you to use it…or release it…during combat."

"Release it?" Charles's brow creased as he concentrated, his mind obviously replaying her words in his head. "I don't understand."

"Charles," she said quietly, moving forward and clasping his shoulder. She gave it a comforting squeeze. "Remember when you told Hank _not_ to focus so much? His focus was holding him back, and I think your fear is what's holding you back."

Charles didn't look surprised, but he didn't look reassured. A shaky breath exited his parted lips. "So, you are saying that you want me to…" He clamped his mouth shut, shame tensing his facial muscles.

"I want you to not worry about losing control. I want you to be more worried about your life than about your appearance." She squeezed his shoulder again and lowered her voice when she said, "Charles, I might not always be there to protect you. I need to know you can defend yourself."

Charles nodded, though he still didn't look confident.

Talking was only going to accomplish so much. So Raven took a step back and, moving her arm back, she aimed her fist toward her brother's chest. "Ready?"

Charles tensed, then nodded.

Raven slowly shot out her fist.

Charles didn't even move this time; he let her fist connect with his chest, and then he recoiled violently and heaved out a wispy breath. His eyes bulged out in pain as he stared at her—with disappointment? Guilt? Betrayal? Raven was finding it hard to tell as her own guilt began to get the better of her.

"Keep going," Erik encouraged. "The more time you give him to think, the slower his reaction will be."

Charles grunted. "Thank you, Erik," he spat, but his voice was too choked for there to be any heat in his tone.

Raven shot out the energy she had received against an adjacent punching back before punching Charles's shoulder. She agreed with Erik; no more thinking, just do.

Charles flinched. "Ow! Raven!"

She punched his other shoulder. Then she kicked his shin before she spun around and shot out several waves of energy against the mats and the punching bags.

"Defend yourself, Charles!" she said, turning to punch him again.

This time, though Charles didn't dodge fast enough again, the area of his chest in which she punched instantly morphed into his rough, scaly blue skin the moment her knuckles made contact with that spot. And not only did Charles not recoil as bad as he had before, his skin had also scraped against her fist.

Raven jumped back, gaping at Charles chest before looking at her scratched up fingers.

Charles's chest immediately shapeshifted his sweater back in place. His eyes were wide, his mouth opening and closing. Fortunately, he didn't seem afraid, just startled.

Raven grinned at him. "That's it, Charles! Do that again!"

"But—"

She punched his shoulder again, and again, that area of his body instantly morphed into his scaly skin. It seemed stronger—abler to absorb the impact of a direct hit.

Laughing—so damn proud and relieved—Raven turned and shot out all of her waves of energy against a mat. She felt like dancing when she looked back at her brother. "Charles! That skin is tougher than flesh! You could use it to soften the blows if you can't move out of the way fast enough."

"That's cool," Alex said. He crossed his arms and nodded, clearly impressed.

Charles turned to the group, a light blush over his features. He looked at Alex for a pointed moment before his gaze shifted to Erik. "Yeah?"

Erik, his expression strangely soft—fond, even—nodded and smiled at Charles. "You're doing good."

"It's awesome!" Sean said, bouncing on his heels. "It's like a secret armor."

Erik cocked an eyebrow at the kid. "I wouldn't go that far, but it is an advantage Charles can utilize." Again, when he looked back at Charles, Erik's face got…weird…like, it was happy and relieved and…adoring?

Raven would have to think about such a reaction at a different time. However, at that particular moment, she was so happy herself that she could stop herself from tackle-hugging her brother. He _oofed_ in response—being melodramatic, of course, but Raven didn't care. She smiled so hard that it hurt.

"You're wonderful, Charles," she said. "You so got this!"

Charles returned the hug. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself."

"Just a little, but don't tell you're not happy about this." She pulled back and witnessed Charles give her a sheepish smile. She laughed. "Knew it!"

Armando came up and patted Charles on the shoulder. "Good job, man."

"Let's continue," Erik said. His weird expression flickered out of existence instantly, his entire form tense with professionalism. "We don't have time to celebrate prematurely."

"Erik's, right," Charles said, turning to his sister. "Let's keep going."


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys,**

**I'm so sorry I'm late with this! Mercy, I've had some really terrible weeks, and this chapter completely slipped my mind.**

**Thank you all for your patience and your fan-ship (is that what it's called? Meh). I really appreciate it. :) And again, I'm so, so sorry I was late in posting this chapter.**

**All the best,**

**Sandy**

* * *

"You want me to do what?" Alex croaked, distress emanating from the kid like wildfire. His voice echoed throughout the large garage.

Erik stood next to him while his eyes wandered over all the expensive cars that were lined up three long rows. He couldn't blame Alex for being anxious; Erik was feeling anxious about this idea, himself. The telepath turned to Charles and gave him a questioning look, but Charles just smiled confidently back at him.

The rest of the group was waiting by the garage door, their own wearied emotions brushing up against Erik's psyche.

"You sure about this, Charles?" Erik asked. _The kid's good, but he could cause a lot of damage in here._

"I have complete faith in Alex's abilities," Charles said, walking over to Alex and patting him on the shoulder. "He just needs to have some faith in himself, and he could be the most powerful one of us."

Alex glanced between Charles and all of the cars. The kid's expression was tense, full of the doubt he was feeling. His gaze eventually made its way over to Erik. _What do you think?_

Erik felt Alex mentally and emotionally open up to him—whether Alex was realizing he was doing this or not, Erik wasn't sure, but the fact that the kid was putting so much trust in him softened Erik's nerves. Alex was depending on him—on all of them.

_I think Charles doesn't care about money or expensive things_, Erik said, smirking. _But I also think he is right. _"You got this, kid. And if you don't," He looked over the garage again, "it'll be interesting to watch."

"Thanks," Alex said sarcastically, though he mentally sent sincere gratitude to Erik, making Erik's lips form a genuine smile. Hesitating, the kid took a deep breath before walking away from them and toward the center of the garage. "You guys might want to stand back."

"I'm not worried," Charles said, remaining where he was.

Erik was impressed that Charles meant those words. He nodded to the shapeshifter's confident statement.

Alex, without glancing back at them, sighed and shrugged. "Whatever." He stopped in front one of the smaller cars and turned to face it. He stretched out his arms, cracked his neck, and took several more deep breaths. Doubt and fear lingered in his mind, but he seemed to embrace it as he aimed his palms toward the car.

Erik's eyes widened when he felt the power rush through Alex's form. And the kid was concentrating hard—his attention focused. Within seconds, he was making the car in front of him float upward like a wilted balloon.

Alex grinned, reassurance and joy spiking in his aura. It soon turned to arrogance, but rather than warn the kid to be careful, Erik reveled in this change of emotion. Alex seemed to be growing more powerful by the second, and as amazing as it was, Erik was not surprised when all of the cars in the garage floated toward the ceiling.

Erik clenched and unclenched his fists, adrenaline not his own running through him like an intense drug. The sheer power of Alex's control—it was intoxicating—it was mesmerizing—it was—

"Erik?"

Erik blinked hard, the world jarring to the side for a brief second before returning to normal. As his vision recovered itself, he saw that all the cars were on the ground and Alex and Charles were standing in front of them. Both of them were staring at him as if he had gone crazy.

Erik stiffened. Had he hallucinated all of that? Defensive anger immediately took hold of him and smothered the humiliation that began to rise within him. He glared at the men in front of him. "What?"

"You kinda zoned out there," Alex said. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, toward the cars. "I think you missed it when I was totally awesome."

Relief washed over Erik just as pride swelled in his chest. _You really did that?_

Alex beamed. _Yeah, dude. And then you got all weird._

Erik rubbed a hand over his eyes and processed this information. "Sorry."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." The telepath's expression became warm as he looked over the kid. "You did good."

Alex's smile widened, his eyes alighting with comfort and pride. "Thanks, Erik."

Erik looked at Charles, who was studying him very intently. The shapeshifter's thoughts were running wild, but emotionally, he was eerily relaxed—as if he was reluctantly accepting something horrible. The thought of it nearly made Erik flinch.

"Charles?" Erik said. Gently, he mentally probed. "What is it?"

Charles stared at him a moment longer. Then he said, "Come with me." He walked toward the garage door, and when Erik and the others began to follow, Charles's hand snapped up. "Just Erik. I want to talk with him in private."

"I thought you already did that," Raven said, waving her arounds around her head.

Erik glared at her, but didn't deny her accusation. Instead, he just hurried after Charles, who had already exited the garage and was walking across the mansion's front lawn.

* * *

_Where are we going?_ Erik asked again, walking beside Charles. They were acres away from the mansion now, the edge of a forestry area right in front of them. _Why won't you tell me anything._

_I assumed you could figure it out, _Charles responded, tapping his own temple.

Erik sighed. _I don't want to invade your mind, Charles._

Surprise burst from Charles's psyche, startling and hurting Erik all at once. Charles cocked an eyebrow at him. _You never seemed to mind before._

_ It's different now_, Erik snapped, glaring.

_How so?_

_ I trust you now,_ he communicated before he could stop himself. Exasperated, Erik rolled his eyes and decided to just go for broke. _I don't intentionally mean to cross any boundaries, and I do want to with you and the others. We're…friends now, aren't we?_

Charles emanated fondness and looked at him. "Of course, which is why I worry about your mental state."

"You think I'm crazy?" Erik tried to sound amused, but he knew insecurity and hurt had affected his voice. He swallowed thickly and looked at the trees, now only a few meters in front of him. "And you're leading me into the woods to…?"

"To do what the rest of us have been doing: letting go."

Erik glanced around at the trees that now surrounded him, a sense of weariness wrapping around him. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Charles."

"You've already been immersed in mind," Charles continued, sounding unconcerned. "What more could you do?"

"Paralyze you? Kill you?"

Charles stopped dead in his tracks and turned to Erik. His eyes were wide, full of wonder. "Truly? You can kill people with your mind? That's amazing."

Erik growled warningly. "Charles…"

"Right, right, we won't let it come to that."

"We?"

Charles looked back toward the mansion. "This is probably far enough out, don't you think? We can practice out here."

"Again, _we_?"

"Erik," Charles said seriously, stepping into Erik's personal space. Charles's eyes were blazing with optimism and stubbornness; it was a little breathtaking. "If we are going to go up against Shaw, we can't lose you to one of your episodes."

Erik clenched his teeth. He wanted to lash out—to hide away from this—but he knew that Charles was right. Breathing heavily through his nostrils, Erik forced himself to remain calm. "What do you suggest then?"

"Practice your powers on me."

Erik's heart stuttered. "What?"

"Sit," Charles instructed as he sat down. When Erik didn't do as he said, Charles motioned for Erik to lower himself. "Stop fighting yourself. If we are going to conquer your abilities, we need to know the extent of them."

Erik pinched the bridge of nose, but despite his great reluctance to this plan, he found himself sitting down and facing Charles. "This could be dangerous," he warned the shapeshifter.

"I know. I'm willing to take the risk."

_What if I'm not?_

Charles blew out a long breath before smiling with understanding. _I can't make you do anything, nor would I want to. But if you 'zone out' while we are fighting Shaw, it could not only put you in danger, but all of us, as well._

Erik closed his eyes, resignation feeling heavy in his chest. _I know, but Charles…_

_ You said you trusted me, Erik. Well, I trust you, too. It will be okay. We'll take it slow._

Erik nodded. Then, after hesitating for a few moments, he let go of his instinctive restraint of his powers. So much noise buzzed through his mind then—most of them coming from Charles, but some of them coming from people in the mansion, as well. Thoughts and emotions…there was so many of them, but Erik wasn't drowning in it all. He mentally navigated through it all, seeking out Charles. For some reason, the thoughts and emotions Charles had weren't disorienting; they felt familiar to Erik, and it was remarkably easy to focus on them.

_I'm here_, Charlese said. _It's okay._

Erik opened his mind to Charles and projected some memories—meeting Charles, meeting Alex. He could feel Charles's surprised and awed reaction to this, and he smiled.

_This is amazing, Erik! How are you feeling?_

Erik thought about it. _I'm alright. I'm not afraid. You…you seem like an anchor—something I can focus on without any effort._

_ I'm glad._

They stayed like that for…Erik wasn't even sure. It felt like hours, but maybe it was only a few minutes. All Erik was really aware of was all these mental noises and Charles…Charles was in the center of it all, and he was calm and accepting and trusting.

_Perhaps_, Charles said, _if you lose control, you can focus on me? Do you think that would help you?_

Hope and affection bled through their mental bond. _Yes, I think it could._


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you guys for all the reviews, favorites, etc. :) This chapter gets pretty dramatic!**

**-Sandy**

* * *

The group all took a seat at the long dining room table, a plate and utensils already placed before each person. Charles, satisfied with the day's work, couldn't help but smile at the people around him. They were speaking with one another and laughing like a family—an occurrence that had never happened in the Xavier mansion when Charles and Raven were growing up.

Warmed by the sight, Charles gaze scanned over each person as his ears strained to take in all of the conversations that were occurring. However, when he noticed something was off, he furrowed his brow. He realized what it was a second later.

"Where's Sean?"

Raven interrupted herself from what she had been saying to Alex, and she turned to Charles with a sly smirk on her face. "Sean is cooking dinner."

"Dear God," Erik said, glaring a little. "Why?"

Raven shrugged. "He insisted. Apparently he likes to cook."

"He told me brownies were his specialty," Armando said, winking as he nudged Hank.

The doctor, clearly confused, frowned at Armando. "Okay?"

Charles opened his mouth, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to explain this kind of thing to his friend. Torn, he remained frozen where he was for a moment. It hadn't occurred to him to go and speak with Sean about making sure they had a _sober_ dinner until he heard a crash and scream from the kitchen.

Everyone jumped and snapped their attention toward the wall that separated them and whatever Sean was doing with an oven.

Worry and exasperation weighed down on Charles's chest. Sighing, he stood up and walked around the table. He wasn't surprised when Erik got up and followed him.

"He's probably fine," Raven said, her voice coming out too high for her words to sound genuine.

"Probably," Erik grunted sardonically.

Charles raised his hand toward the kitchen door, and he was already mentally preparing himself from the horror that may be on the other side of it. But then smoke burst behind him, and Charles tensed and spun around.

"Get him out of my head!" a young woma—God, it was an Angel. She had grabbed Erik's leather jacket, and she was shaking him as she screamed, "Get him out of my head! Please!"

Charles hurried toward her and grabbed her shoulder. "It's okay. We—"

The world exploded out of view for a second. Then the three of them were in a different part of the dining room—no longer so close to the kitchen door, but closer to the hallway.

Charles's head spun. Perturbed and anxious, he glanced around at the new angle of the room. His hand was still on Angel's shoulder; he could feel her shake beneath his grip.

"He's in my head!" Angel said, her voice choked with agony. "He's been controlling me. Please, please, Erik, get him out!"

Charles looked back just in time to see Erik nod and raise his hands to Angel's head. He swore he heard Erik whisper "Shaw," but in the midst of Angel's cries, Charles couldn't be sure.

"It'll be alright," the shapeshifter said to the poor woman. He forced his own fear and confusion aside; there was no time for it. "You're safe now, Angel. It's okay."

Charles heard Sean burst into the dining room, but he kept his attention on Angel. She and Erik seemed to be a deep trance, and based on the way their expressions were tensed, Charles couldn't be sure if this was a good thing or not. He just squeezed Angel's shoulder and tried to breathe slowly—tried to think clearly about everything in case he would need to do something later.

Angel jolted for a second before she collapsed.

Charles fell to his knees. "Angel?! Angel?!" He shakily pressed his fingers against her throat.

"What the hell is going on?!" Sean squeaked. "Is she…?"

Just as Charles found the woman's pulse, Hank kneeled beside him.

"She has a pulse," Charles told him, scooting away. When he saw Hank used his fingers to open her eyes—to check the dilation of her pupils—Charles felt comfortable enough to look up at Erik. "Erik? What happened?"

The telepath was staring straight ahead, heavy breaths leaving his nostrils. His glassy eyes had a blank look to them while his body shook more and more as the seconds past. He looked like he was on the verge of collapsing, too.

Charles couldn't breathe. Quickly, he stood and grabbed Erik's arm. "Erik?"

Slowly, Erik's eyes shifted to Charles. The terror that grew on Erik's face made the shapeshifter's heart go ice-cold.

"He wants to start a nuclear war," Erik whispered.

"What?"

"Shaw—"

Hank stood up, Angel's body in his arms. He shoved past Charles as he ran, and he barked at the others to stay out of his way. They all watched him leave the dining room, their faces ashen.

"Shaw wants to start a nuclear war," Erik said, his voice a little stronger.

Charles turned back to him and unintentionally squeezed his arm. He could feel his blood rushing through him—burning him—but at the same time, Charles had never felt so numbed—so lifeless.

"He thinks," Erik continued, his breath hitching. "He thinks that if he can get the United States and the Soviet Union to use atomic weapons against one another, then the disaster will only kill the human race and leave the surviving mutants to control the world."

"Only?" Charles heaved. He would have laughed if the situation didn't paralyze him with panic and dread. "Erik, that's genocide."

"It's insanity," Erik whispered. "He'll kill everything, not just the people he wants to die." He pressed his face into one of his large hands, a shaky breath exiting his lips. His entire body shuddered. "And he sent Angel to…to taunt us."

Nausea shot through Charles's stomach. Violent tremors wracked through his entire form as he comprehended Erik's words and their implications. It was too much—too horrible and sickening. He could not speak; he could barely stand.

"How does he plan to do that?" Raven eventually asked. She came up and stood beside Charles, her hand grabbing his while she continued to stare at Erik. She squeezed Charles's fingers, and he managed to squeeze back. "How does one person start a war?"

"A war is already on the verge of starting," Erik said. "It wouldn't take much—just one mistake, one misunderstanding…" He shook his head and took a step back. For as big as Erik was, he seemed on the verge of crumbling to pieces. "And he told us to mess with us—or recruit us—or—" He gritted his teeth, rage contorting his expression.

Erik punched the wall so quickly that Charles didn't even flinch until several seconds afterward. Specs of blood and crumpled wallpaper was left Erik's wake, but as Charles was processing that sight, Erik was already rushing out of the room and down the hallway.

Charles was rushing after him before he could even think to do so. He heard Raven and the others followed, and the sense of unity strengthened him. He took deeper breaths, his hands clenching into tight fists.

"Erik," he said.

The telepath continued his quick stride down the hall.

"Erik, we can beat him."

Erik turned then, his eyes blazing as he sneered at Charles. "He damaged her!"

Charles stopped, blinking quickly. "What? What are you—?"

"He damaged Angel's brain, Charles. The moment she came here, he was inside her head, watching. I felt it, and I felt it when he finally…" Erik shut his eyes, his head bowing forward. He held his bloodied hand close to his chest. "If she is not brain dead, then she'll wake up brain damaged."

Charles swallowed thickly, his muscles seizing a little. Anger now coursed through him, along with so many other emotions, and it nearly blinded him with its sheer power and foreignness. "We'll beat him, Erik. Together. If he is as arrogant and sick and—" He clamped his mouth shut and reminded himself to not drown in his chaotic state of being right now. "We can beat him."

"He's already started."

"Then we beat him!"

Erik cocked an eyebrow at him. Then his gaze flitted over Charles's head to the others.

"We have to beat him," Charles continued, his eyes watering. "What other options do we have?"

Erik's gaze snapped back to him. "Killing Shaw and his cronies was one thing, but stopping a war? That's messy, and that's big. The humans will surely see this—this _conflict_, and they might not know the difference between us and Shaw. If they see us try to—"

"They'll see us defeat Shaw," Charles said. The idea of that—of humans seeing mutants help them, of humans realizing that mutants existed and that this was not a bad thing—it fueled Charles with an exhilarating kind of energy and hope. "They'll see us as allies. They'll help us."

Erik snorted. He suddenly seemed to deflate before Charles's eyes, all the tension rushing out of his body as fatigue took a hold of him. "Charles, be reasonable."

Raven stepped forward, clamping her hand on Charles's shoulder. "We can beat Shaw," she said, stressing each word as she glared at Charles, then at Erik. "That's what matters right now. Not humans, not politics—beating Shaw. And we can do it, but not without you, Erik. We can't have you getting cold feet on us now."

Erik frowned and narrowed his gaze at her. "I'm not getting cold feet."

"Good. Me neither."

Alex stepped forward. "Me neither."

A few seconds later, Armando stepped forward, too. "What they said."

"I'm freaking out a little," Sean said, but he was stepping forward, too. "Is that okay?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "We're all freaking out, man."

"Oh, phew. I thought I was the only one for a second."

Charles smiled fondly and proudly at each one of them. Just staring at them—these new friends of his—was easing some of the tension and chaos within himself.

Erik bellowed out a sigh. "He's already started." He turned and continued down the hall. "The tension between Cuba lately? That was him."

Charles followed him, as the rest of them did. He knew exactly what Erik was talking about, and his mind was spinning in the desperate attempt to understand every small detail of Shaw's plan. Did he have mutants in Cuba? Did he recruit a mutant who could control nuclear material?

"What tension with Cuba?" Sean asked.

Dumbfounded, Charles glared back at Sean.

"What?" Sean said, flinching. "I don't like the news, man. It bums me out."

Erik growled, "You better start watching it now." He turned and entered one of the sitting rooms. Specifically, it was the one with the television set. "I'm sure they're still talking about it. We need to get up to date about it, and then we can start to formulate a plan." Erik went over and crouched before the television.

Charles nodded his agreement, and he and the others went to sit or stand in front of the television.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey guys,**

**Sorry about how short this chapter is. I've had a terrible case of writer's block (or the writing yips, as I like to call them; it makes me feel athletic, even though I spend most of my time sitting in front of a computer), and it's been difficult to work on my various projects. Still, this chapter has a lot of Raven awesomeness and badassness. :D**

**Hope you guys enjoy this!**

**-Sandy**

* * *

The next few days went by in a rapid pace for Raven. They all spent the majority of that time training harder, planning smarter, and becoming a small army of sorts. She could never be certain if they were ever battle-ready or if they were just fooling themselves, so she chose to believe the former. If nothing else, having that mind sent strengthened her resolve about this whole horrid situation.

Covered in a fresh sheen of sweat, she got herself a glass of water before heading to medical wing. As worn out and worried as she was about everything, she knew Hank was struggling the most. A man of healing, not only training for war but also trying to save someone who may not be able to be saved?

Raven had gulped down the majority of her water by the time she entered the medical area. It shined with lack of use, all except for one corner of it. Raven's eyes were glued to that section, and her heart sank.

Hank was slumped in a chair beside Angel's bed. He was going over the woman's chart, but based on the way his forehead was wrinkled, it didn't seem like there was anything good in it.

Raven had visited Hank and this woman every day since her return, and every day, Hank had worse and worse news. It spoke volumes about their enemy's capabilities, and it frayed at whatever nerve Raven had. Still, she couldn't bring herself to hide from this; she wanted to help—to fight—and that meant having to be brave in the face of horror.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. God, she suddenly felt so old, yet too young for any of this. Anxiety jittered through her while self-loathing weighed down on her.

"She's brain dead," Hank announced, making Raven open her eyes. He was still looking at the chart in his hands. "There's nothing I can do but keep her comfortable."

Raven went cold, then numb. She glanced over Angel's sleeping form. "Has Erik said whether or not he could do anything."

Hank sighed, slapping the chart down on his lap and raising his gaze to Raven. His eyes were a pinkish hue—from lack of sleep or tears, Raven couldn't tell. "He's too focused on defeating Shaw than trying to figure out how to save her. I think it's possible, but if Erik is completely focused on what he is doing, he could make things worse for her."

"Worse than brain dead?"

"Yes."

Raven swore quietly, but she couldn't bring herself to feel the fear or the anger the situation desired. She swallowed thickly. Then, realizing she needed to focus on what she could do, not what she couldn't, she looked at Hank. "How are you doing?"

Hank snorted. "As well as could be expected. You?"

"Same. Can I get you anything? Do anything to help?"

Hank gave her a tired smile, then his face fell as he looked back at Angel. "I don't think so. But I'll let you know."

She nodded at that. She turned to leave—to go train some more—when Hank called her again. Furrowing her brow at his concerned tone, Raven looked over her shoulder at him.

"Be careful," Hank said, his eyes still glued to Angel. "I knew Shaw was bad. We all saw what Erik portrayed, but seeing it in the here and now…" A shudder went through him, and he pressed his lips together. "Whatever happens, whatever we're about to do…be careful."

Dread twisted beneath her breastbone; it made it hurt to breathe. Rather than express such an emotion though, she merely nodded. "You, too."

She left the medical wing feeling more burdened than she had when she entered it. But, with all the things she could be afraid about, it was Erik that had her the most concerned. Erik—obsessive, stubborn, thick-skulled Erik. It was obvious how blind he was by his hatred, and while Raven couldn't blame him for it, she also couldn't excuse it. Not when the lives of herself and her friends were in the balance.

That thought sent a strengthening kind of anger through her veins. Her head held high, she hurried through the mansion in search of their leader.

She found him in the study with Charles. The two were playing chess—something they did often during their breaks from training and arguing.

"We have it in us to be the better men," Charles said, stress in his tone.

"We already are," Erik growled.

Raven would have rolled her eyes at their intense bickering if she wasn't so determined. Quickly walking up to them, she caught both of their attention and interrupted whatever else was going to be said between them.

"Raven," Charles greeted tiredly, his gaze flitting over the chessboard. "What is it?"

"I need to speak with Erik," she said, staring pointedly at the man in question. "Alone."

Erik cocked an eyebrow at her. _We can converse privately like this._

"Alone," she repeated, glaring.

Charles frowned at her, but he raised his hands in surrender and stood up. "Very well. If there is anything you need to speak with me about, don't hesitate." He looked at her and conveyed his worry silently before he walked out of the room.

"You don't think I'll be able to defeat Shaw," Erik said, tilting his head at Raven.

"No," she said, stretching out the word as annoyance got the better of her. "I don't think _you_ should defeat Shaw."

Surprise flashed in Erik's expression. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"There is a brain dead girl in the medical wing—because of Shaw. And he wasn't even in the city when he did that to her."

Erik closed his eyes and bowed his head, his hand coming up to rub at his brow.

"We need you to protect us from Shaw," Raven continued. Her emotions flailed about and made her tone tense and breathy, and she let it. There was no point in hiding anything from Erik. Her heart pounding hard and her mind racing, she said, "Shaw can turn us against you, can make us brain dead, can do whatever he wants to our thoughts and our memories. If we are going to go against him—to fight him and whatever mutants are following him, then we need to make sure that he is not getting in our heads."

Erik's facial muscles stiffened, and he stared at her for a long moment. Confliction was obvious in his gaze, but so was resignation. "You want me to hang back and fight telepathically with Shaw."

"I think that is our best option."

He sighed. "It makes sense. I don't like it, but…it makes sense." He glared at the chessboard beside him, restrained rage radiating off of him.

She didn't feel guilty perse, but she still had nightmares about the memories Erik had shown them…and something within her conscience burned. She frowned. "I know you want to give the killing blow, but if you can distract him—hurt him, even—then you will be the key component to whichever one of us ends up killing him."

Erik returned his gaze to her, his form a little more relaxed. "We'll discuss it more tomorrow with everyone else. But I think you're right. Thank you for coming to me."

Raven's eyebrows shot up, pride and fondness swelling within her chest. "You're welcome."


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey guys,**

**We're building up to some action! I'm excited. **

**And I probably should have mentioned this much, much sooner, but this is obviously unbetaed. A free-form of work, if you will. ;P**

**All the best,**

**Sandy**

* * *

In one of the front rooms of the manor, they had been arguing for hours—Erik and Charles mostly, though the others chimed in with their opinions, as well. Regardless, they didn't have time for this, and Erik explained as much to them repeatedly. They were stubborn though, these new friends—or allies—of his. It was a trait he admired and despised at the same time.

"He's going to use Kennedy's blockade for the final blow near the Cuban Islands," Erik said, yet again, hiding his clenched fists beneath his crossed arms. "He'll entice one of the submarines from the American or Russian side to attack the other, and that will begin the nuclear war. Or so Shaw believes."

"And all without being seen, himself," Charles said, his tone thoughtful but his words unnecessary. "And he'd have to keep his crew hidden, as well."

Erik glared, his temples aching from the frustration nature of all of this. They all knew Shaw's plan—Erik had told them it before, mentally showed them it—but they were still arguing on where exactly they should confront Shaw, not to mention how they were going to fight him and his mutants. It didn't seem to matter to anyone that Shaw was waiting for them on a particular day, in a particular location; sneak attacks were not an option…there weren't many options at all, really.

"So he'll just be hanging out on a beach in Cuba?" Alex said. Standing next to Erik, the young man kept tapping his foot and biting the inside of his cheek. "Armed and ready to shoot whatever he sees?"

Erik clenched his teeth. He didn't bother looking at the kid. "He has his own sub. He'll be in the water."

"Near Cuba," Alex said defensively. Embarrassment and befuddlement radiated from the kid, but he kept it well hidden. "He's got to have some kind of…base there or something."

"He doesn't," Erik said. "Get off of Cuba and focus. Shaw will be in the water, and he will somehow force one side to attack the other. Perhaps telepathically, perhaps with weapons from his own sub. It could go either way."

"Or both," Raven said. She stood near the doorway, her gaze on the carpet.

"Or both," Erik conceded. "We need a way to counteract his attack or to get him to target us instead."

"We need to get him out of the water."

"Or," Sean said, widening his eyes and raising both of his pointer fingers, "we get ourselves in the water."

Erik would have groaned or growled if that was Sean's first stupid idea, but it wasn't, and Erik was growing alarmingly complacent with Sean's…with Sean.

"Hear me out!" Sean cried out indignantly, glaring at everyone as they tried to ignore him. "If we can show the American subs and the Russian subs that there is a third sub in this fight, maybe that will show them that they're not the bad guys. The Americans, I mean, though I guess Russia's a victim, too, right?"

Erik rubbed his eyes, his fingertips gracing over his temples—now throbbing. Refraining from snapping, he took a deep breath before saying, "Let's try this again. Step One: How do we get there without being spotted?"

Everyone's thoughts and ideas ran through Erik's head, and worked diligently to block out the pointless noise and find the brilliance amongst it. He stiffened when he discovered a distant memory—a kid of sixteen joining the Air Force under false pretenses during the Korean War. Disappointed at himself for not discovering this sooner—and angry as hell that the person in question never mention this valuable detail—he raised his gaze before narrowing it at Armando.

"Why didn't you tell us you know how to fly an aircraft?"

Everyone's eyes widened on Erik, and then on the man he was sneering at.

Armando tensed, shaking his head. "It's been almost a decade. I don't think I can—"

"You can," Erik said, uncrossing his arms. "You have to. You're our best shot."

"Dude," Sean said, gaping at Armando. "You know how to fly? That's awesome! Why didn't you say anything?"

Armando frowned, discomfort and resentment contorting his expression. After a moment of hesitation, he sagged and blew out a defeated sigh. "I learned during the Korean War. We didn't have any money, I wasn't good at anything, and my…mutation hadn't developed yet. They take all kinds to throw at a fight, except a pilot who turns into…" He stared at his feet. After an awkward moment, he eventually said, "It wasn't the greatest time in my life; that's all I say."

"Fine," Erik said tersely. "You're flying us. That's that. Step Two: How do we locate Shaw?"

"No," Raven said, straightening. "Step Two: How do we acquire an aircraft that can carry all of us." She walked beside him and grabbed Erik's shoulder.

Defensive but intrigued, Erik remained where he was.

"And I think I have a plan that might actually work," she said, smiling at all of them. Her memories—her thoughts—brushed against Erik's psyche, and he couldn't help but be impressed; she had been working on this plan for a while now, and now that they have Armando filling the missing piece, everything might end up working in their favor.

Charles, who had been lost within his own conflicting thoughts, expressed loud panic from his mind as he stared at his sister. He wasn't cut out for this, even if he did think it was necessary.

Erik glanced at him wearily before returning his attention to Raven.

* * *

In the back of his mind, Erik was a little disturbed about how easy it was to discover a secret CIA base in the heart of New York City. But he didn't dwell on it. He walked into a shabby one-story building—surrounded by skyscrapers and noise—and plastered a charming smile on his face.

The man sitting behind the front counter was not amused. He narrowed his gaze at Erik and stood up. "May I help you, sir?"

By the time Erik had walked up to the counter and drummed his fingertips over it, he had read every little secret code from Agent Myers's mind. It was remarkable how simple the task really was, now that Erik's head wasn't so muddled by hallucinations and lack of control. But, remarkable or not, none of those codes would help him them.

"I am Agent Max Eisenhardt," Erik said. The sheer power of his expanding awareness as he reached out and telepathically implanted information in Myers's mind…a thrill jolted through Erik's veins, and his smile widened into a toothy grin. "I am here under confidential orders for reasons that don't concern you or me. You have an old aircraft out of commission—about to be scrap for parts. It would be perfect for the mission I am on. Do you understand what I am asking you?"

Undisposed, Myers's nodded. Something sparked in his brain—thoughts, awareness, doubt—but Erik smoothed those away and created different sparks, different connections, different senses of comprehension.

"I will transport an aircraft out of commission," Myers said slowly, his shoulders losing their tension and his face going slack, "to the designated destination for you to use for confidential reasons."

"Perfect." He dug to a different place in the intricate brain before nodding. "At what time and what place?"

"Tonight, 11:40. At the Xavier Manor."

"Will you be followed?"

"No, sir."

"Will you mention this confidential business to a single person in your entire existence?"

"No, sir."

Erik couldn't help himself—his confidence souring, his power making him shiver with delight—he winked at the poor bastard. "Good man."

* * *

Later, at 11:46 pm, Erik cringed at the tiny rows of flames and mud in the long meadow behind the Xavier Mansion. The plane itself—smoking as it was at the end of these rows of fire and mud—was in decent shape for a World War II patrol aircraft; it was rickety, of course, and it probably should have been converted into something more threatening decades ago, but it was what it was and Erik was satisfied to have it.

Charles, on the other hand, was livid.

"He could have been killed, Erik!" Charles snapped at him as he helped Hank carry Agent Myers from the plane and toward the mansion. Despite the darkness, the dying flames that trailed behind the plane like torn ribbons helped illuminate the rage in Charles's expression. "We went too far!"

As Charles and Hank shoved their way inside the mansion, the rest of the group stood by Erik.

"He'll get over it," Raven said beside him. She was eerily calm for someone who had just witnessed a large aircraft crashed in her backyard. "You did good."

"He did alright," Alex said unconvincingly, the kid glancing back at the smoking plane.

Sean was staring at the aircraft like it was a dragon, and Armando didn't look like he was breathing.

_You can do this_, Erik telepathically told their pilot.

Armando jumped, then turned to Erik. Laughing awkwardly, Armando tugged at the front of his shirt. "I keep forgetting you do that."

Erik gave him sympathetic smile, though it felt more like a wince on his own face.

"Hey," Sean said, finally turning toward the mansion. He walked past Erik and Raven while pointing toward the backdoors. "Hey, is that dude going to be okay? I mean, other than the mind-trippy thing Erik did to him?"

"He's fine," Erik said, huffing and rolling his eyes. It didn't matter if one human was a casualty in this fight, anyway, but he was tired of arguing with these people about such things. "He's disoriented, his body is heavily bruised, and he has a few broken ribs. All things considered, he's doing remarkably well."

Sean's mouth fell open as he stared at Erik. "You can ready the body, too?!"

Erik didn't even know what that meant. His eyelids fluttering closed, he grumbled out, "I read Hank's mind."

"Oh…"

Alex snorted. "Dumbass."

Erik couldn't help but agree.

* * *

Once Hank had confirmed that Agent Myers was going to be fine—and after Erik had promised Charles to "undo" his mind-controlling trick after this mission—Hank lead them into the downstairs lab where he revealed several bright yellow suits, hanging on a rack. They looked like something a janitor would wear—an insane janitor.

"It'll protect us from extreme elements," Hank said, speaking over the protests Alex and Sean had. "From the cold, the heat, rough terrain—"

"We're not making a fashion statement," Raven snapped, glaring at Alex and Sean. "It doesn't matter what they look like."

Alex and Sean frowned and blushed, looking chastised.

Erik smiled with approval, all the while feeling Charles moving to stand beside him. The shapeshifter was emitting his typical fear and doubts, though now, he was purposefully directing them at Erik. And amidst those emotions, Erik heard one word: Raven.

_She's an incredible, strong young woman, _Erik told Charles. _You should not fret over her as much as you do._

_I normally don't_, Charles replied. Then, ignoring Erik when he rolled his eyes and snorted, Charles continued. _I've seen her do incredible things—take incredible risks. But I never dreamed she would be preparing for a war, for injury…death._

_She's not preparing to die, Charles. She's preparing to win. We all are._

_You know what I mean._ Charles visibly tensed, turning to Erik and grabbing his elbow.

Erik did him the courtesy of sharing eye contact for a moment. All the while, he emitted calm into Charles's subconscious. His mind—so busy, so full—was so much more engaging than Myers's was, and the difference made a warm kind of possessiveness seize Erik's heart; he let Charles feel that, too.

Charles's eyes widened, a soft but shy smile gracing his lips.

"Be brave, Charles," Erik whispered. _Be brave for us._

After a second, Charles nodded. _Of course._ _Let's go._


	19. Chapter 19

Charles did not feel the least bit brave as he sat in the aircraft, the straps over his torso and waist restricting some of his blood flow. A tight frown on his face, he glanced beside him and behind him at the others, also strapped in. Only Armando and Hank were in the pilot's cabin, though Hank had claimed he only knew how to "fly in theory." These were not reassuring circumstances.

He looked for his sister, sitting behind Erik. The look on her face was a stiff kind of indifference, and it made something in Charles's heart break and clench all at once.

He had to force himself to look away from her. She was an adult. She didn't need her brother to coddle her—or demean her, as far as Erik was concerned. Charles didn't quite agree with the sentiment, but he couldn't deny its partial truth either.

"Everybody ready?" Armando called back, his loud voice wavering a little.

Charles, again, glanced at everybody; with the exception of Raven and Erik, they all looked as nervous as Charles felt.

"We're ready," Erik said, baring his teeth at no one in particular. "Get this thing flying, Armando!"

"Alright, alright," Armando called back, clearly agitated. "Hang on."

There was nothing to "hang on" to, and the realization made Charles's stomach flip. He pawed at the tight straps before he quickly settled on holding onto his own knees.

A moment later, the plane was rushing forward. Its wheels tore through the grass and hopped off of bumps. It made the ride rough and jagged, every inch of the plane creaking or shuddering in some manner.

Charles clenched and curled into himself a bit. His body shook so violently that he wasn't sure if he was doing the shaking or if it was the plane doing it for him. He wanted to look at Raven—take strength in hers—but he couldn't bring himself to shift his head amidst the chaotic motion. Without fully realizing it, he mentally cried out to Erik.

_It's fine, Charles_, Erik responded, startling the shapeshifter. _This thing will have fly. Trust me._

_What does trusting you have to do with hoping that this bloody plane will fly?_

Charles was both surprised and soothed by the affection that bloomed from Erik's psyche. That was the only response the telepath offered, for in the next moment, the plane was slowly but surely rising.

_See?_ Erik said.

_There are still the matter of the trees._

Charles flinched repeatedly as the plane rose higher and higher. After a couple of minutes went by, he felt it safe enough to presume that they wouldn't be crashing into any trees. At least not right away.

Though the plane still rattled, its motions were calm enough for Charles to look over his shoulder at his sister.

She was beaming at him, her eyes alight with pride. Charles smiled back at her, though he wasn't sure what she was so thrilled about. Perhaps she was just ecstatic that they hadn't perished.

_Your skin is showing_, Erik said, pride emitting from him, as well.

Charles stiffened. Hesitantly, he released his knees—his fingers throbbing with aches—and stared down at his hands. His blue, scaly hands. A part of him was relieved that he had physically put on the jumpsuit, its weight heavy on his body. God, what if in his fright he had completely exposed his true self? Yet, as the thought troubled him, he didn't feel as horrified by this occurrence as he had been in the past. If anything, he found this current situation a little more relaxing.

_When you're focused on important things, you can't focus on the unimportant things_, Erik said.

Charles glanced at him. The telepath's words were a little offensive, but his smile was gentle as he stared back at Charles.

Charles released a quiet sigh. _That's a rational way of perceiving it._ He looked down at his blue hands again.

_You are amazing, Charles. If you must doubt that, then at least believe that _I _know it to be true._

Charles blushed. Too bashful to look up again, he managed to choke out, "Thanks."

After that, the trip to Cuban waters was relatively uneventful. Save for the occasional rumble that shook itself deep into Charles's bones, nothing happened. No one even spoke. Charles wasn't sure what the others were doing, but he was mentally running through their various strategies over and over again. He knew that Erik could hear his loud thinking, but for whatever reason, the telepath didn't communicate with him as much as he had earlier. Whenever Charles glanced at him, Erik seemed to be deep in thought.

"We've reached our destination," Hank called back to them. "Erik, you sense anything?"

"No," Erik said, practically spitting out the word. "No, I can't sense Shaw."

"What about the ships?" Hank asked.

Charles furrowed his brow. "The ships?"

"There are American and Russian ships out there, and I can see some of the sailors pointing at us." Hank sounded wearied. "Whatever we're going to do, we need to do it fast."

Erik growled. "We can't do anything until I find—" He gasped and convulsed, his face screwing up in agony. He clawed into his seat before snapping his hands up to his temples.

"Erik?" Charles said, leaning toward him against his straps. Frustrated, he huffed and pulled at the straps. "Erik, what's wrong?"

"He's taunting us," Erik snarled, shaking where he sat. "That bastard. I—"

"Can you locate him?" Raven asked loudly. She unstrapped herself with ease and leaned over Erik's seat to get a good look at him. "Where is he?"

"I don't know!" Erik snapped.

Charles forced himself to take deep breaths before he slowly unstrapped himself. Once free, he let his emotions run wild again as he hurried over to Erik. Behind him, he could hear Sean and Alex unbuckling themselves. Charles's focus was glued to Erik though, the telepath's expression tight and his eyes blazing with fury.

Charles grabbed Erik's arm in hopes of anchoring him. Out of all of them, Erik's concentration was the most significant. Charles ran his thumb over Erik's lower arm, helplessness icing its way up Charles's torso.

"Erik?" Charles asked quietly.

"I'm trying," Erik said, gritting out the words. He flinched to the side the next second, a string of cursing running out of his mouth. "I'll kill him."

"What's he doing?"

"Armando!" Hank screamed just as the plane dove forward.

Charles's inside felt like they were yanked toward the earth as his world jarred dramatically to the side. His fingernails clawed into Erik's arm as Charles fell and tumbled toward the pilot's cabin. After that, his limbs flailed right before the upper half of his body collided with a metal wall. Pain and panic flared within him, his senses disoriented and his mind reeling. He noticed the others clinging to the rows of seats, and he swore he heard Erik cry out his name—though if this was mentally or verbally, Charles couldn't fathom a guess.

"Armando!" Charles screamed, twisting his body to look toward the pilot's cabin.

The plane was still diving forward, twirling every so often.

Charles had never felt so weightless and nauseated in all of his life. He desperately clung to whatever he could, but he was basically just slamming his palms against metal wall.

"Armando! What's happening?!"

"Shaw," Erik cried out. "He's—"

It was hard to hear anything, a high-pitched whistle zapping through the plane. Charles cringed and jolted, even as he slid about the wall.

"Fight him!" Raven screamed, holding on to Erik's shoulder with one hand while she held on to a seat with the other. "Fight Shaw!"

"I'm trying!" Erik said. He didn't sound nearly angry as he had before; he sounded terrified.

The plane creaked and groaned, and Charles feared that it was coming apart as it fell. It wasn't until he noticed Alex—one hand a seat and another hand in the air—that he realized what was happening.

"That's it, Alex!" Charles said encouragingly. He was both proud and relieved by the sight before him—the blurred vision of Alex's pinched expression as he concentrated. "You can do this!"

Raven and Sean turned to Alex. Erik hunched forward as much as he could, his own struggles evident in his eyes.

The plane groaned louder, but it was tilting upward again. Charles could only hope that they weren't too close to the ocean yet, but he had no idea. Looking out the windows, all he saw was blurred lines of white and blue.

Sluggishly, the plane swayed to the side as it tilted upward more and more. Charles slid from the wall and back against the floor, but he was only allowed a second of relief when a large crash erupted from the bottom of the aircraft, jarring it toward the sky. Charles bounced in place, pain searing through multiple points in his flesh.

Another crash burst from the bottom of the plane again, and Charles realizes that they were skimming over the ocean like a deformed rock.

"Shaw!" Erik snarled, his eyes boring into nothing.

His tone and his expression scared Charles—made his heart stop for a brief, painful second. And then the plane crashed against the water one last time, the movement jarring Charles in multiple directions.

As the plane slowed, it began to sink. Charles could hear the splashes of the waves outside, though his own loud hisses and gasps drowned out some of the sounds. He clutched his sides, so much pain and shock radiating through him he could hardly think straight.

Erik had been right, of course. Compared to more significant events, Charles didn't think twice about his blue, scaly skin.

"He's near," Erik said, his voice sounding so loud amidst the growing quiet.

"I can sense the sub," Alex said. His voice was strained, and when Charles looked up at him, he saw that Alex's forehead was glistening with sweat. Both of his hands were in the air, and they were trembling.

He was keeping the plane from sinking fully.

"Grab it," Erik said. "Alex, bring that sub up here."

Alex grunted, wobbling over to the side and falling to his knees. "Erik, I…it's too hard. I can't move two massive chunks of metal at the same time. It's too much." He released a watery breath, his head bumping against one of the seats.

"Just do it!" Erik said, blood vessels in his eyes breaking.

Charles raised himself to his feet, tumbling over to the side before catching himself. He wanted to speak out—mentally, he did—but Erik's sole focus was on Shaw and Alex at the moment. Not even Charles could penetrate through that.

"Okay," Alex gasped out. "Okay." He shifted in his position a little bit, and the plane dramatically swooshed toward the side and began sinking.

"Armando," Raven said, crawling forward and propelling herself to the pilot's cabin. "I'll get him to get this thing flying again." When she came across Charles, her eyes glanced over him quickly before she nodded at him. "Keep Erik grounded."

"I—" he said, but she was already shoving her way into the pilot's cabin.

_I can't._


	20. Chapter 20

Raven burst into the pilot's cabin and immediately saw Hank trying to wake up Armando, slumped in his seat.

"I don't know what happened," Hank said quickly, patting Armando's cheek with one hand while checking his pulse with the other. "He was perfectly fine, and then he went dead-silent and flew this plane into the water. He wouldn't listen to me."

Raven ran up and positioned in front of Armando. As Hank retracted his hands, Raven used her owns to keep Armando's head up. "Shaw," she said, peeling Armando's eyes open.

Hank swore, moving back a bit. "But Erik was—"

"He couldn't. Alex is the only thing keeping us from sinking."

* * *

Erik felt like his brain was being pulled apart by steely claws. Suppressing his screams, he focused on the force behind those claws—the monster's psyche. Shaw laughed at him, his taunting words soundless in their telepathic connection. And the longer Erik struggled against him, the louder Shaw's words seemed to get.

"He's closer," Erik gritted out. He knew he was somewhere on the plane—knew the others were there—but his vision was too blurred and his sense of awareness was too fractured for him to make sense of anything. He could be lying down or standing up—he didn't know either way. "Shaw's closer. Get him. Find him."

"I can feel the sub," Alex gasped out from somewhere.

"Then get it!" Erik snarled.

"But…the plane."

"Forget the damn plane. I want that sub."

Charles mind penetrated Erik's as Charles cried out, "Erik! We need Alex to keep us from sinking—"

Erik snarled. "Get me that sub!"

Shaw taunted him and his poor leadership. He made death threats to Erik while laughing about them.

_If only you listened to me sooner,_ Shaw said. _You still can, son. You and your friends. I am more forgiving than you give me credit for._

Alex groaned, Charles cried out in protest—

Erik bared his teeth. "I said get me that damn sub! Now!"

* * *

Armando's eyes were dulled like those of the dead, but they weren't focusing on anything either. Raven—her adrenaline zapping through at a rapid pace—was tempted to slap him and shake him, but she feared absorbing the energies of those impacts. Her powers were useless here.

The thought made her turn to Hank, who was messing with the aircraft's console in an attempt to put his book-gained knowledge into practical use. By the look of frustration and panic on his face, she doubted he was succeeding.

"Hank, forget about that," she said. "We need Armando. Use your winds to shake him or something."

"In a compressed airspace? That could be disastrous."

She released a frustrated breath through clenched teeth.

The plane groaned and sloshed downward, bouncing a bit and making Raven and Hank trip and tumble to the floor. Pain and energy flared through Raven's flesh, and her body ate it up and pulsated with them—burned with them. One her elbows and knees, she scrambled to her feet. The plane continued to wobble, sinking lower and lower.

"What's happening?" she barked.

The energy within her was growing—burning—more and more by the second, all the while her surroundings jarred and lowered in an unstable manner.

"Alex?" Hank guessed, fumbling over his own feet and crashing against the console.

"Keep this plane up," she told him, grabbing the pilot's seat. She glared at Hank when he glanced over the console. "Not with that! With your powers."

"I told you—"

"Then open a window! De-compress this thing and keep it from sinking!"

She didn't see what Hank did next. The energy inside of her—jarring about as much as the plane was jarring about—was starting to tear her molecules apart. And in her frayed physical state, her emotions escaped her sense of control and flailed about in her consciousness. Fear, anger, regret—

Withholding a scream—not thinking anything through—she grabbed Armando's head with one of her hands and shot a wave of energy into his skull.

* * *

"Alex!" Charles cried, his hands clutching a seat as the plane tilted in the water. He glanced between Erik and Alex—Erik concentrating so hard that he was convulsing, and Alex balancing himself in the plane with his arms outstretched toward the floor. "Alex, we can't get Shaw if we drown."

"But I've got it!" Alex gasped, his limbs shaking hard. "I got it!"

Erik had stopped yelling at both of them, and Charles suspected it was because he could no longer hear or see what was around him. He just kept growling "Shaw" and sneering at nothing.

Charles mentally reached out to him, only to have Erik mentally shove him back. Charles flinched as pain erupted inside his head, fear and worry making his heart pound harder. Erik was so far gone…

"What do we do?" Sean cried out, his wings out and twitching. His arms and legs were wrapped around the back of his seat, his wide eyes darting about. "What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?"

He didn't know. Dread encased Charles, and he froze. He gaped at Erik, covered in sweat or water or both. Erik who looked like he was dying, and who may very well drag the others down with him.

Charles didn't know what to do.

* * *

Armando jolted in his seat, a pained gasp bursting from his mouth as he bended forward.

Raven nearly cried from sheer relief. "Thank God! Armando!"

"What the hell?" Armando groaned, pressing his palms against his temples. He raised his head and squinted at the sight before him. "What is—?"

Water was rising over the front windows, so Hank used a massive gust of window to blow out a side window. He pushed the plane through the water, and the motion somehow managed to keep the aircraft afloat for a moment longer.

Armando swore, Raven barely hanging off the back of his seat.

"We crashed!" Raven cried out over the noises. "You need to get us back in the air."

Armando's head swiveled back and forth, and then his attention was glued on Hank as the doctor blew small tornadoes out the side window.

"What?!" Armando screamed.

"Fly the plane!" Raven screamed back.

* * *

Shaw's voice was getting even louder in Erik's head. They were so close now. Charles and Sean were screaming, Alex was saying something important—Shaw was so much closer now.

* * *

Armando had just placed his hands on the console when they crashed into something. Raven and Hank were flown to one side of the plane—crashing into one another before crashing into the side-window there. Metal screeched, energy seared through Raven's skin and veins—

When Hank and Raven collapsed on the ground, she scrambled to her feet. Her entire body pulsated with agony and power, but she couldn't bring herself to stay still—to give in. The plane was still jarring around, but not as much. And metal was still screeching against one another. They hit something metal.

"Fly the plane," Raven repeated as she rushed out of the pilot's cabin.

_The sub_, she thought to herself over and over again. _The sub. The sub._

She scrambled for the plane's exit, the others screaming and clinging to whatever they could. Erik was the only one still strapped into his seat, though his eyes where shut tight and his face was scrunched in pain or in concentration. Probably both.

"I got it!" Alex said, holding on to a chair. "I got it!"

"Raven!" Charles gasped, relief _and_ fear somehow tinging his words.

"We hit the sub," she said. She managed to reach the exit—nearly crashed into it as the plane swayed and groaned. She pulled the appropriate levers before forcing the door open. Grunting, she said, "If we are going to get in there, we need to leave now!"

Sean buzzed and flew at her, shoving her aside to get through the door. The second he was outside, he stared up at the sky and said, "Thank You, God!"

Raven didn't bother reacting to that, instead turning back to the others. Alex was making his slow but determined way toward her, sweat on his brow and in his hair. Charles moved toward her, as well, but his movements were more hesitant.

"We got this!" she told them. "We're halfway there."

Charles actually laughed, and Alex grinned at the sound.

Once they were right behind her, Raven felt assured enough to turn and jump on to the sub. Charles and Alex followed suit, Sean hovering about them with his hands clutched together.

They all wobbled on to the surfaces of the sub. Raven headed for the hatch, the plane creaking beside her and warning her of potential doom. She struggled not to glance at the aircraft, even as the giant thing threatened to crush her or to sink out of sight. She wasn't sure which one was worse.

"Alex," she said as they got closer to the hatch. "Open that door!"

A surprising yet pleasing thrill shot through her when the hatch seemed to explode, its parts flying out and skittering over the sub's surface. With the hatch's door gone, Raven could peer into the tube and at the ladder that led down it.

Raven smiled a toothy smile. "Nice work!"

"Thanks!" Alex said.

* * *

_They're coming,_ Shaw told him. _You sure they are ready to face me? You never were, and you're stronger than all of them combine._

Erik didn't know about that. Either way, he didn't respond to the words. Instead, he focused on distracting Shaw—hurting him, making his attention splay out in one too many directions. It pained Erik to do so, but even a slightly weaken Shaw was better to deal with than a healthy Shaw.

_Keep telling yourself that_, Shaw said. _Keep living in denial. It'll make your defeat all the quicker._

Erik growled. He sunk deeper into Shaw's psyche—found a past memory of loss—and clawed into it.

When he felt Shaw wince, Erik nearly smiled.

The world shifted dramatically then. Armando was screaming Hank's name, Hank was screaming apologies and confused words—it made little sense to Erik, but he half-expected to die.

It made him fight harder against Shaw.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Charles followed his sister through the sub, Alex and Sean so close behind him that he could practically feel their body heat. Their steps clanked and echoed down the narrow halls. No matter how lightly Charles tried to tread, he was just as loud as the rest of them. Granted, at this point, there was no use in trying to perform a sneak-attack.

Charles's gaze flitted about, his heart pounding too hard for comfort. Every little shadow—every little flicker of light—could potentially be their enemy. The sub looked and sounded abandoned, but of course, he knew better.

_Erik?_ Charles asked, feeling as if he was praying to the telepath. _Erik, I know you're overwhelmed, but is there any chance you can guide us in the right direction? We're walking blind._

He didn't truly expect an answer, but talking to Erik always made him feel a little better.

Charles stopped dead in his tracks when he somehow felt Erik's voice vibrate within his skull.

_Second left, two mutants. Be sharp._

Charles repeated the instructions to the rest of them. Raven turned and furrowed her brow at him.

"Erik," Charles whispered.

Raven nodded before hurrying forward. They followed her just as quickly as she moved.

For a brief second, panic seared through Charles. He wanted to turn around—wanted to grab his sister and run.

Raven jolted back, her shoulders slamming into Charles's chest just as an ungodly shriek erupted before them—coming out of the adjacent hallway—the second one to the left. It shook everything and pierced Charles's eardrums, making agony stabbed into his brain. He cried out and grabbed his ears, but he couldn't hear himself. The hallways warped and creaked, and he stumbled between his sister and Alex repeatedly.

Silence returned so quickly that it made Charles feel hollowed of his muscles. He collapsed against the wall, pain flaring in his side as he did so. He clawed at it until he standing straight.

Raven was shooting blasts at their assailant, both having traveled farther down the hall somehow. Their assailant, his long dark hair jumping back and forth as he moved, screeched back at Raven—his voice was softer this time though, weakened.

Alex ran past Charles to assist her, Sean hovering close behind, and Charles was quick to follow.

Another man with a devilish grin slid out of the adjacent hallway and shot red blasts at them.

* * *

Erik panted, his body sagging forward against his seatbelt. More aggravated than anything else, he glared in the direction of the cockpit. He heard Hank and Armando speaking quickly and brokenly.

Something sparked in front of him, but Erik didn't even flinch. Sticky sweat coated his entire form, quivering. He shut his eyes tight and focused on Shaw again.

_Your people are fighting mine,_ Shaw told him. _Their deaths will be on you._

Erik clawed into his armrests and shot a wave of emotional agony into Shaw's psyche. Shaw—physically and mentally recoiled, a tight gasp escaping his lips; Erik felt it, and it made him smile.

_You think you're truly protecting them from me?_ Shaw asked. _If I wanted them all enslaved in this moment, I would make it happen._

Erik shot out another mental wave of agony, and he felt Shaw recoil again.

_Liar_, Erik said.

_I want you all to understand that we are on the same side. But if you keep pushing my patience with this ridiculous defiance, I will not hesitate to end you all._

Erik grinded his teeth together and tried to sink deeper into Shaw's mind—to see and hear everything he was.

Distantly, he was aware that the plane was moving forward.

* * *

Charles dodged red blast after red blast, his opponent giddy and reckless as he swiped his arms and emitted the hot red energy toward him.

Charles ran partially up the wall and flipped backwards, the blast missing him by inches. Though he had been training with Raven for a long while, he still was partially shocked by his athleticism. Without even thinking, he was sliding and leaping and flipping around like a gymnast. The blasts never hit him.

"Sean! Alex! Go!" Raven called from farther down the hallway. "We got this!"

"You sure?!" Alex yelled, even as Sean's wings could be heard buzzing farther and farther away.

"Go!"

Charles wanted to argue—to discuss—to plan—but time and instinct didn't permit that. He ducked and slid flat on his torso, avoiding another red blast. The walls, the ceiling, and the floor groaned and creaked in a threatening manner.

Charles rolled to the side—avoiding another blast—and got to his feet.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn't afraid for himself or his sister. Though he barely caught sight of her as he moved, he saw that she was handling things just as well as he was, if not better.

* * *

The plane was skidding across the water, but it was getting higher and higher. Reassured by this—even as it dramatically rocked him all about—Erik used a little of his energy to check in with the others.

_Good_, he told them all once he realized Alex and Sean were going after Shaw. _Get that bastard. Use everything you have._

_ No problem,_ Alex said while Sean's mind screamed random nothings.

Erik cringed and pulled his mind away from them, altering his attention to Hank and Armando.

_It's flying! _Armando's mind cheered. _It's actually flying! _

_I see the ships,_ Hank said—or thought—or projected—Erik wasn't sure anymore. _American and Russian. Damn it. We need a white flag._

_ What? _Armando said.

_We need to make sure they don't shoot us down!_

Panic and pain shot down Erik's spine, and he cried out.

_See? _Shaw said. _You can't protect them._

Erik forgot about everyone else and used all of his power to stun Shaw in any way possible. He felt Shaw choke—felt him stiffen—felt him swore with his own tongue.

Erik focused harder, his body on fire and his brain pulsating waves of excruciating pain.

* * *

Being inside the sub was surreal—magical, even. Alex had no idea how to explain in it words, but he was aware of every metallic molecule that surrounded him. He could physically feel the results of the battle behind him—screams and beams hitting metal—just as he could feel the vibrations of his own footsteps as he ran down hallway after hallway. He wasn't sure if anything of this was good or not, but it didn't bother him like it might have a few months ago.

"Dude, where are you going?" Sean said, following close behind. He didn't sound out of breath, his wings clearly not taking on as much exertion as Alex's legs were. "We've been randomly running around in this death-sub for several minutes. Shaw could be following us waiting to strike for all we know."

"Doubt that," Alex panted out. He slowed, letting his eyes wander and his aching body rest. Everything looked the same and felt the same—metal after metal, doorway after doorway. It wasn't as if he could sense human bodies. Frustrated and afraid, he bit back and growl and turned to Sean. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Ask Erik for help. He helped Charles."

"I already tried that. He's blocking me."

"What?"

Alex shook his head and moved forward. He didn't want to explain that he could now tell when Erik was mentally focused on him and when he wasn't. "We need to figure this out, ourselves." He stretched his shoulders back and mentally prepared for the fight ahead.

"Maybe there's a map?"

Alex rubbed his temple and twitched. "Hey, Sean?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

Sean snorted, but he didn't say another word.

Alex led them through more hallways, his senses on high alert for something human-like. His lips pressed together, he breathed heavily through his nose.

_Closer_, a voice whispered in his head, making Alex jump.

That was not Erik. Though the telepathic communications didn't _actually_ use voices, Alex could just sense it wasn't Erik.

"He's taunting us," Alex said, remembering Erik's words back on the plane. Humiliation and rage flared within him, and he moved faster, muscles tensed.

"Who is? Shaw?"

"Of course Shaw! Don't be a dumbass."

_You're getting closer, Alex, _it said, and Alex shivered with disgust. Shaw being in his head was violating—it made disgust crawl over Alex's insides.

The immediate presence of Erik in his mind was both a relief and a shock. Breathless, Alex stumbled and barely managed to brace himself against the wall. His free hand found his aching head and held it.

"Alex?"

_Get out!_ Erik snarled inside his brain. Panic, affection, protectiveness, rage—it burned itself into Alex's psyche, the emotions somehow also shielding him. Alex had no way of explaining how he knew that; he just did. Whatever else was said, the metalbender could no longer comprehend it. The voices and the presences faded into nothingness, though they left a slight headache in their wake. Alex blood also felt a little warmer, sweat seeping out of his pores.

"Alex?" Sean touched his shoulder. "Dude, you okay? You look sea-sick."

"I'm fine," Alex breathed, straightening. He wiped the moisture from his brow and stalked forward. More determined than afraid now, he said, "Let's find Shaw."

He was a few steps away from the end of the hall—one that split into two separate directions—when the wall jittered.

Alex gasped, sensing the gears that now turned and buzzed within that wall. He hurried up to it and pressed his palms against its cold, smooth surface. He was just about to pinpoint the other metallic objects behind that wall—was about to realize that sheer amount of nothingness he felt behind that wall—when it jittered again before rising.

Alex jumped back, shoving Sean back in the process. Sean grunted and landed on his feet.

Alex's jaw fell, his heart stuttering. Before him—the wall now fully risen—was an entrance to a whole secret section of the submarine.

And Shaw was standing right there, the back of his head made of gleaming diamond. The rest of him looked human though—from the blueness of his eyes to the sharpness of his smile. "Hello, Alex. Sean. I've been expecting you."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Erik locked into Alex's mind the moment they confronted Shaw. He saw through Alex's eyes—felt Alex's panic and determination warring with each other in the pit of chest. The kid was barely breathing.

"It doesn't need to be like this," Shaw said. He spread his arms out, the back of his diamond head glinting in feeble lights. "We want the same thing."

Alex heard Sean's quick intake of breath.

Erik's entire body trembled with exertion, his limbs tensing against his seat as much as they could. He pushed himself into Sean's head while remaining in Alex's, a protective aura and awareness emanating from their telepathic connection.

If Shaw tried to manipulate their minds, Erik would stop him. No matter the cost.

"I know he is in there," Shaw said, tapping his head before pointing at Alex's. "I know he has said horrible things about me. And a lot of them are true. But he still doesn't understand why I did what I did and what I am trying to accomplish now."

Rage spiked through Alex so fast that it overwhelmed Erik for a second—made him sick with the backlash of such a powerful emotion. Erik heaved, nearly falling over himself. All the while, he kept himself mentally locked with those kids.

Alex was speaking. As Erik regained his focus, the words became clearer and clearer. The rage behind them—searing through Alex's blood—never dissipated.

"…ick freak. Destruction does not lead to peace," Alex said, breathing heavily. He clenched his hands into trembling fists. "And even if it did, I wouldn't help you."

"Me either," Sean squeaked, clearing his throat a second later.

Shaw seemed to freeze in time for a few seconds before his face slowly fell, his eyes narrowing. "Impressionable youth. Tragic. If I had only gotten to you before him…" He glanced over his shoulder and whistled. "No point in hiding, beautiful. I can take care of them alone."

Confusion radiated through Alex, calming his rage. Erik breathed a little easier, his own mind scrambling to find the person Shaw was speaking to. Just as he located her, she stepped out from around the corner. She moved slowly—hesitantly—though her hips swayed with ease and her head was held high.

"You sure?" Emma Frost asked, that light voice of hers conveying dark intentions. "These aren't their weakest recruits." Her gaze landed on Alex. "At least, he isn't."

"Hey!" Sean said. "I resent that!"

Alex's fists—still at his side—stopped trembling. Confidence soared within him, its outer layers shifting into arrogance.

Erik didn't care. So long as Alex and Sean took care of this, he didn't care.

"The others need you more," Shaw said, eyes still on Frost. He released an irritated huff. "That Darkholme girl is impressive and worthy of recruiting, but I cannot fathom what is taking so long for Xavier to just die. Finish him."

Emma nodded, eyeing the kids for a moment before turning around and heading out of the large room through another exit.

Shaw returned his attention to Alex. As the old man smirked, pain grew beneath Alex's skull.

* * *

Erik cried out, his awareness blurring and spinning. He couldn't feel the chair he was in—couldn't feel himself breathe. As Shaw's presence stabbed into his, the only thing Erik was truly aware of was Alex's hammering heart.

Then Shaw seemed to burst out of existence.

Erik reigned his focus back on Alex and Sean, and through Alex's eyes, he saw Shaw picking himself up from the ground. His coat and shirt were made of ash, sprinkling off his torso like black snowflakes.

Sean, Erik thought proudly.

Alex used his own powers—throwing his arms up and making the metal beneath Shaw's feet jut upward. Shaw fell back again as Sean hovered over him and spat out fire.

Shaw snarled, waved his hand out, and Sean went limp before collapsing to the ground.

Panic spiked through Alex, who thoughtlessly moved toward Sean while Shaw moved toward him.

Pain erupted in Alex's very being—his nerves as well as his psyche—and the kid screamed.

* * *

Erik screamed, burning.

* * *

Charles ran down one hallway before leaping into an opened closet.

Several red bursts crashed into the hallway—the walls, the ceiling, and the flooring. Charles curled on himself as his surroundings roared and shook. Metal shrieked as ash tinted the air.

Terror was such a constant within Charles's form—pulsating ice through his veins—that he was actually used to it. It was like a new state of being: constantly terrified. The back of his throat tasted of bile, and his heart thudded so quickly he barely felt it.

The second things were quiet, Charles scrambled to his feet and pressed himself against the back wall. Then he held his breath and waited, knowing his opponent would be on the hunt for him.

_I can't win Charles!_ Erik wailed in his head. The telepath's anguish reverberated through the words, shooting down Charles's spine and encasing him fully.

Charles inhaled sharply, holding his breath instantly afterward. As pain fluttered throughout him, he shifted a bit in an attempt to hide in darker shadows.

He heard footsteps slowly moving in his direction.

_He's too strong!_ Erik said. _I can't beat him! I can't! I—_ Self-loathing, pain, guilt, rage—

_Erik, stop focusing on everything at once!_ Charles mentally screamed back.

The footsteps grew a little louder, a shadow making its way toward the closet door.

Charles's eyes were glued to that shadow, even as his mind sought out Erik. _You are one person, Erik. I don't care what Shaw can do—or what he tries to convince us he can do. Do what you do best and focus on one thing—him. Focus on him and do what you have to do. Stop muddling your mind with us and get Shaw!_

Erik retreated from his mind so quickly that Charles jolted, nearly jarring to the side. He released his breath in a loud gasp.

The footsteps stopped, as did the shadow.

Charles swore—nearly wept—until a massive _bang_ vibrated down the hallway, crashing into Charles's opponent and sending him flying down the hallway.

Relieved and shocked, Charles poked his head out.

His opponent was groaning, his body sprawled on the metal floor like a broken doll.

Charles looked down the other end of the hall.

Panting, Raven stood there—a warrior in the midst of battle. Her eyes locked with Charles's for a brief second before she leaped toward him, an ear-shattering screech rushing down the adjacent hallway in violent waves.


	23. Chapter 23

**It has taken forever, but we're almost done! Prepare for more chaos, drama, and angst!**

**As always, thank you all so much for following this story, for your reviews, for your story-favorites, etc.. I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this fanfic. I'm actually already getting excited for its sequel (still working on the details).**

**All the best,**

**Sandy**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

Erik didn't like Charles's idea—focus entirely on the king and forget about the rest of the pieces. But what other option was there? Abandoning his allies might doom them, but not attacking Shaw with all of his might could also doom them.

_Do what you do best_, Charles had told him. _Focus on Shaw._

Erik grinded his teeth. Memories—distant yet vivid in his mind—of his torture on Schmidt's hands…of his mother's murder…

Rage fueled the telepath, tensing. He shut his eyes tighter and forced himself to breathe deeply and channel his emotions.

* * *

Alex was on his hands and knees, his body paralyzed in that position. Eyes wide—aching with the need to blink—he watched as Shaw punched Sean again and again.

Sean fluttered and writhed, trying to escape, but Shaw's diamond-coated fist always smashed him back to the ground.

Alex mentally screamed, his anger and helplessness suffocating.

Shaw glanced at him. "I told you it didn't have to come to this. Don't cast me as your villain because you could not concede to words of wisdom." Still staring at Alex, Shaw slammed his foot down on Sean's chest.

Sean wheezed, his wings beating against the floor.

"You're ignorant," Shaw continued. His face fell a bit. "I do not fault you for that. None of you. If you have seen what I have seen, then you would understand. And I truly hope that once you see what you are about to see, then we will finally be able to see eye to eye. Humans are the monsters in this world, not us. Not me."

Alex mentally swore at Shaw while trying to just look at Sean. His watering eyes wouldn't move though, pinpointed straight ahead. The metalbender heard his friend gasping, but he could hear little else. Alex fought against the telepathic hold on him—he trembled and sweated.

Shaw huffed. "Disappointing. But I still have hope for you, Mr. Summers. As for your foolish friend," Shaw looked down and frowned, "not so much."

Alex struggled harder, but it was useless. A panicked dread stifled his heartbeat—made his entire body ice over. The tears that escaped his eyes were partially emotional in nature, his physical pain adding to his desperation.

Sean was going to die. He—

Shaw's gaze snapped upward and he stumbled back. A breathless, humorless laugh puffed out of his mouth. "Well, that was unexpected. Erik, I commend you on your determination, but it's—" The old man's jaw slackened, his arms twitching back. A growl emanated from deep within his torso. "Erik. Stop."

Alex collapsed, blinking hard and panting wetly. His attention jolted to Shaw—sneering in pain at nothing—and then he looked at Sean.

Sean scooted back before his wings' flapping got him off the ground and moving back several feet. His face was bruised, but all things considered, he looked fine.

A shaky kind of relief jarred Alex for a few seconds. He stumbled over himself as he moved toward his friend.

Shaw cried out, his hands snapping to his head.

Alex jumped and stopped, his face swiveling back to Shaw. He dared to hope that Erik was winning the fight that they could not. But as Shaw shook and gnashed his teeth, a bright surface slowly but surely began growing out of his skin. His diamond form. The one Erik couldn't telepathically penetrate.

Alex's stomach dropped. Even Erik wasn't going to win, no matter how valiant his efforts clearly were. They were going to lose. After all that training, all that fighting, coming together as a team…

Clarity struck Alex, making him stiffen. At first, he thought it was Erik trying to tell him something because it felt…so outside of himself. But the more he thought about it, the more aware he became that this was his own thought process. His own realization.

To beat Shaw once and for all, he would have to take advantage of this rare opportunity: Shaw weakened, a giant metal coffin all around them—

Alex turned to Sean, who gaped at Shaw as he continued to struggle against Erik. "Sean!"

Sean reeled back against the wall, his eyes locking with Alex's a second later.

If the situation had been less dire, Alex would have laughed at his friend's clumsiness. Instead, he cried—nearly sobbed. "Go find and Charles and Raven and fly them out of this thing as quickly as you can."

"What about you?"

"I'll catch up. Just get them out of here now. Trust me."

Sean hesitated before nodding. He buzzed up in the air and then zoomed out of the room.

Sniffling, Alex got on his feet and faced Shaw. The metalblender swiped the back of his wrist beneath his dripping nose, drying a little. Two seconds later, he threw his arms forward and cried out.

Metal beams, metal ladders—all sorts of metallic objects rushed through the air and slammed Shaw against the nearest wall.

Shaw rocked in place, his diamond-eyes snapping to Alex. The old man scoffed, his hardening skin a strong defense against the metal that shoved against him. "I know what you are thinking. It won't work, you suicidal fool. It won't—"

Alex smashed a jagged metal plating against Shaw's face. Shaw growled from the other end of it.

Alex did not stop his assault. Erik just had to keep Shaw distracted long enough—they had to keep fighting long enough for this to work.

Alex's entire body went rigid, sheer power coursing through him as he took apart the sub and slammed its contents against his enemy, pinned and trapped.

* * *

The aircraft jittered and jarred, breaking Erik of his lock on Shaw. Fear and rage spiked through him, but before he could shout at the pilots, the aircraft dipped dramatically. All the air whoosed out of Erik's lungs, his mind spinning.

"I've got to land this thing!" Armando shouted.

An explosion burst beside the plane, burning and blinding Erik for a second.

"Talk to them already!" Armando shrieked.

"I can't!" Hank shrieked back. "The comms not working!"

Erik tried to focus back on Shaw, but the scents of oil, fire, sweat—he choked on them. He gripped the arms of his chair and honed in on Shaw for a brief moment, making the old man jolt to the side a bit—making his diamond-form receded a fraction.

But then Erik could hear other thoughts, strangers' thoughts. Russian, American—

_Warning shot fired. Aircraft still not firing._

_ Americans have fired. We must fire back._

Erik mentally ripped himself out of the sailors' head and forced himself back into Shaw's.

But he was losing his grip on him. Shaw mocked him, called him suicidal. This is suicide, you fool, you cannot win—the aircraft dipped again—the Americans are firing again—the Russians have aimed their—

_Erik!_ Alex's voice screamed in his mind. _Talk to me! Are they out yet?!_

_What?_ Erik blurted, so overwhelmed. He was about to try and get at Shaw again when a hint of Alex's thoughts brushed against Erik's psyche.

Erik's eyes snapped open, his heart clenching. _No._

* * *

Hank threw off his headset. The island was getting closer and closer by the second, the speed at which this was occurring overwhelming—dooming. They weren't landing, they were crashing.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Armando barked, his gaze still aimed straight. His entire body quivered as he tried to angle the dying plane just right.

Hank unbuckled his seat belt. Physics worked against him—shoving against him as he struggled to hold himself up. His own emotions didn't help either, fear making him cold and nauseous.

"Hank!"

"I don't know!" he snapped, on the verge of vomiting. "But I've got try, okay?!"

"What?!"

The windows were shattered, and they were at a low altitude now. If he could just aim himself just right—

"Hank!"

He couldn't think about this anymore. If he did, he knew he wouldn't do it.

Using the winds that were already around the plane, Hank propelled himself out of the cockpit.

"HANK!"

_Don't think, don't think, don't think_, Hank thought, flying high. He closed his eyes and felt the air particles—so many—so chaotic, the loud noises of the plane grounding his perception.

Keeping himself hovered, Hank spread his arms wide before shoving them—and his torso—forward. A burst of massive of wind flew beneath the plane—carrying it—guiding it—slowing it.

_Don't think, don't think, don't think._

Hank moved his entire body accordingly, following the winds as he maneuvered them beneath and around the plane. Together, they plunged toward the island at a softer descent.

* * *

The submarine was coming apart, water bursting out of cracked seams and holes. It shook violently, tilting to the side occasionally. It was like an earthquake in a small, confined space.

Raven and Charles held onto one another, their opponents mirroring their exact positions. For a moment, as Raven stared at them, it seemed like they had reached an understanding.

No one wanted to drown.

Her feet were pressed against one wall and the floor—or, at least, what she thought was the floor. Charles held both of her arms in his hands, and she held on to his arms in return. But as comforting as the gesture was, it would not save them. They had to find a way out. She squeezed Charles and opened her mouth to ask their enemies' for directions.

Then like a bat out of hell, Sean zoomed toward them from nowhere and grabbed them—one hand on Charles's wrist, the other one on Raven's upper arm. The extra weight made him sink a bit, but it did not slow his motion at all.

They zipped past their enemies, down various hallways, and then up, up, up—

They flew out of the hatch, the ocean crashing against them and making Sean weave a little.

Raven held her breath on instinct. She knew nothing but adrenaline and the grip she still had on her brother.

A moment later, they were bursting out of the ocean's surface.

Raven gasped and coughed, kicking out her legs that were still partially beneath the waves. Her heart hammered—the sunlight blinded her—she turned to Charles and shouted his name.

"Are you okay?!" he coughed out, patting her shoulder and arm before clamping down on her wrist.

Relief floored her. Blinking against the harsh light, she turned her face upward. She croaked, "Sean?"

He was panting thinly, his arms shaking. He twisted himself a bit, but otherwise, they remained floating where they were.

Something was wrong. She couldn't figure out what it was this yet—too blind, too terrified, too cold, too shaky—but she could sense it. The world had shifted, twisted. Something was horribly wrong.

The sharp whistle of a plane diving had her jolting. Raven looked in the direction of the sounds and blinked hard, willing her vision to clear. As white warbled into blotchy black, she could make out a shape of a plane skidding over the water. No, over sand…

"God," Charles wheezed just as Sean rushed in the direction toward the crashing plane. He sank a little more as he flew, his limbs shaking harder. It was a miracle that he was able to carry all of them to—

Pain shot through Raven's chest.

Alex…


	24. Chapter 24

**Prepare for complete sadness. :(**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

Though Erik's body went limp—detached from consciousness—his mind continued to assault that of Shaw's. In fact, his own mind felt stronger, not being distracted by the physical senses. Viciously, he tore himself into Shaw's psyche—past his mental and physical barriers.

He felt Shaw strain against him and cry out.

Enraged, powerful—pleased—Erik was tempted to take his time and rip Shaw's consciousness apart, piece by piece. But Alex's recent thoughts had hit Erik hard, and he could not ignore them now, even if he wanted to. A part of him still slicing through Shaw, another part of Erik seeped back into Alex's mind.

Alex's entire form was tensed, blood rushing through him and his muscles aching. Pure power coursed through him, and he used every bit of it to pin Shaw to a wall while sinking the sub—while tearing its paneling off its structure and smashing them against Shaw.

The ocean water was already up to Alex's chest, and it was nearly covering Shaw's entire body.

_What are you doing?!_ Erik barked. No control, no filter, no hesitancy. Nothing but sincere panic and anger. _You're going to get yourself killed!_

_Diamond form can't save him from drowning, right?_ Alex responded, his mental voice and aura aching. Despite the casualness of the words, icy fear penetrated through them—stabbed into Erik.

If Erik could recoil—could cry— _Don't do this!_

_Just save my brother, okay?_

_ Alex! Stop breaking apart the sub and bring it back to the surface! What about the others?!_

_ Sean got them out, I'm sure! And Shaw might make it if I go back up for air! If he gets to my mind in time to stop me and save himself—_

No control, no filter, no hesitancy. Erik's first and heart-wrenching response was: _I don't care! Don't die like this!_

Through Alex's senses, Erik felt the water quickly rising to his jawline. More water was spouting out of several gashes out of the sub—several more gashes, holes, being formed as Alex continued his attack and his descent.

_Yeah, you do care_, Alex said. His mind was frantic with panic, instincts screaming with a dreadful kind of certainty—a dreadful kind of loneliness. Warm tears crawled over Alex's cheeks before dripping into the ocean. _I get it, it's okay. It's okay._

_ It is not okay! Alex, stop! I don't want this! I don't want this!_

Alex's pain, his panic, his sense of abandonment—even though he knew he was the one tearing himself away from the world and his friends, he still felt so hopelessly alone. And Erik felt that as much as if he was Alex, as if the kid's hammering heart was his own. It was agony. Alex was dying in agony because of him.

_Because of Shaw, _Alex corrected, water over his head now and rising fast. _He needs to die. If I…if I have to…_ Alex couldn't even think it. He focused harder on his powers—focused harder on shove metallic projectiles against Shaw's form.

_Alex! ALEX!_

_Find my brother. Find my brother. Find my brother. God, shit, God, help me, please, please, God, I'm sorry, shit, help—_

Shaw's lungs were filling up with water, and the old man tried to scream in protest. Slowly, he started to drown.

Alex was quick to follow.

_No! NO! _Erik screamed into Alex's head. It was foolish, but Erik felt if he could keep Alex conscious—

* * *

Erik jerked awake, Hank crouched in front of him and holding the telepath's left eyelids apart.

Erik shoved him away. "Alex?" Despite the fiery pain that flared all over his body, Erik concentrated as hard as he could on Alex's mind. He stiffened, hands clawing into the arms of his chair, when he felt a fleeting presence of Alex's psyche.

And then it dwindled into silence. Nothingness.

"No! No!" Erik concentrated harder—exerted his pounding brain, but it was hopeless. The second he realized the truth of that, he allowed himself to sag back. Emotions—too overwhelming, too horrible—crashed into him, and he could barely take notice as Hank poked and prodded at him.

"Erik?"

Charles's voice, worn and full of fear, had Erik looking over to his left—where the side of the plane used to be. Now, there was a massive opening that revealed the beach and the ocean. Charles, Raven, and Sean all stood there by his chair, all of them soaked and all of them looking sick.

Tired, Erik's lolled back toward Hank, who took a break from his examination to look Erik straight in the eye. Like a confession, Erik gritted out, "He's dead. Alex. And Shaw."

Hank's eyes widen, the rest of his body going slack.

Erik didn't have to look at everyone else to know what they were feeling. Their shock, their grief, some sense of denial—it penetrated his mind and pained his heart. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't—he had to get out of there.

He tried to stand, only to have his seatbelt hold him back. Embarrassment quickly erupted into anger, and Erik ripped the straps off of himself. As he stood, Hank backed away and stumbled toward the cockpit—or what was left of it.

"How does it look, Armando?" Hank asked, tone feeble and voice cracked.

"I think I can get it to fly again," Armando said. "I don't know how far I can make it go, but it's something."

Erik made his way out of the plane and on to the beach. The warm, ocean-scent air blew against himself, grounding him in some sense of reality. A reality where Alex is dead because of him.

"Erik?" Charles said, footsteps light as he followed the telepath.

_Leave me alone, Charles_, Erik said—thought—felt. He shook his head and closed his eyes tight, his legs still carrying him forward.

_I can't yet_, Charles responded. _Not until we're safe back home._

_We're not safe!_ Erik snapped, spinning around so fast that Charles reeled back. "One of us just drowned!" _And the fault of that will forever be on me._

Charles's red eyes widened, full of anguish and disbelief. "Erik, it was not your fault. We all agreed to do this. We all knew the risks."

Erik turned away. So many thoughts and emotions—most not even his own—clawed into him and demanded his attention, his control. He was so tired though. And—

His attention snapped in the direction of the American ships and the Russian ones. Though they were a great distance away, the thoughts of the sailors were loud and clear.

"Erik?"

"They're coming for us," Erik snarled. The injustice of this was too much. After everything that was just lost, to suffer this was unacceptable. He turned back to the others. "They are coming here to kill us!"


	25. Chapter 25

**I apologize for being late with this chapter, guys. Yesterday was a weird day. :P**

**And also, I clearly know nothing about aircrafts, piloting aircrafts, etc., etc., so everything that happens in this chapter, take with a grain of salt. ;D**

**Thank you all so much for your patience! I'm glad you're liking this fanfic. :D**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

Charles choked on his breath, his widened eyes darting between Erik and the ocean. His mind flurried for comprehension amidst his panic—his grief—his doubt.

In the distant horizon, multiple metallic shapes gleamed beneath the sunlight.

"Why?" Raven asked, tone broken. Her chest heaved as air wisped past her lips.

Erik turned back to the ocean—toward the naval ships of two very powerful countries. Without glancing back at them, Erik growled, "They saw some of us. The _real_ us. And most of the American sailors are comparing Hank to a demon or a monster. The Russians think he is some kind of war-experiment."

Charles turned back to Hank, who had stepped out of the plane and was now pale. He—clearly guilt-ridden—glanced at Charles. "I…the plane was crashing…" Hank jumped back, as if self-awareness gave him a quick shot. He spun and stumbled into the plane as he cried out, "Armando! We need to move!"

Charles winced and turned back to Erik. But the telepath was still staring at the ships, his body wrought with tension. Charles would have reached out if every molecule of his form didn't feel like icy stones. He flexed his fingers—willed himself to feel calm, even in his true form. "They're startled. It's understandable. They just need an explanation, and then they will understand."

"They want us dead, Charles," Erik said, still not looking at him. "You can't reason with murderers."

"They're out in combat!" Charles snapped, voice squeaking on the last word. He cleared his throat and, once again, flexed his fingers. "It's not murder out here; it's war."

"And we're what? Collateral damage?"

"We don't have time to debate anything, Erik. We need to…" Charles clamped his mouth shut, his hand raising on its own accord before clenching into a feeble fist.

He had no idea what he or Erik could do now. Neither one of them knew how to operate a plane like Armando did, much less fix one—if that was even possible under these circumstances.

Dread tingled with frustration as Charles lowered his fist. "We need to do something other than argue. Anything."

"Anything," Erik rasped. As if he were sleepwalking, he walked toward the ocean. "I agree with you on that."

"Wait," Charles said, jolting forward and forcing himself in front of Erik, even while the man continued to walk forward. Charles's heart stuttered, then froze, at the sight of the telepath's blank face. "Erik, stop! Look at me!"

Mirth flashed back into Erik's eyes, now refocusing on Charles. Erik sneered and bared his teeth, an agonizing rage contorting his expression. "Get out of my way, Charles."

"You're upset," Charles said breathlessly. "You're h-hurt, you're exhausted, you're mourning—we all are." He nearly tripped over his own feet, still walking backwards toward the tides. "We are all suffering right now, Erik. Just like you." His mind reeled with too many horrible possibilities, too many painful memories—too focused on this moment yet not focused enough. He dared to grab Erik's broad shoulders, the firmness grounding Charles. "Please, don't let your current feelings make you do something savage and reckless. No one else needs to die."

That had been the wrong thing to say.

Erik stopped cold, his right arm shoving Charles a good two feet back. "We are all going to die unless I do something, Charles! Not everyone deserves to be spared, and I will be damned if I let those bigots live instead of us!"

"So you're going to kill hundreds of people?!"

"As many as I can."

Nausea burned up Charles's torso. "Don't do this, please. I am begging you. You are better than this."

"Stop talking to me." Erik pressed his fingertips against both of his temples.

"No!" Charles grabbed the telepath's forearms and yanked them down.

Erik ripped his arms free, only to have Charles grab them again. The older man growled and clamped his own hands around Charles's elbows. "Let. Go."

"There has to be a better way!"

"There isn't."

"You can't just communicate with them? Explain—"

Erik gawked at him while somehow still conveying his fury. "They are aiming their weapons at us as we speak, and you want me to 'communicate' with them? If anything, that'll just make them want to kill us more."

"Erik—"

Erik tried to throw him aside, but Charles's grip was strong; he nearly pulled Erik down with him, both of them stumbling over themselves.

"Charles—"

"Please, Erik! Alex wouldn't want this!"

That had also been the wrong thing to say.

Pain sliced through Charles's psyche, making him scream as the world blackened around him. Fiery agony consumed his heart—thoughts and memories not his own flashing in the back of his mind.

It all happened with a few seconds, but it might as well have been a lifetime.

* * *

"Charles!" Raven screamed, rushing up to her brother as Erik fell to his knees beside him.

The shapeshifter—blue and bare as the day his mutation first came to be—twitched on the sand for a moment before going listless, a short sigh leaving his lips.

Raven crashed on her hands and knees beside Charles, her hands scrambling over the sand and then over the blue torso. "What did you do?" she said repeatedly as her hand pressed itself against Charles's neck. When she didn't get an answer right away, she snarled up at Erik. "What did you do?!"

"I don't know," Erik breathed, eyes wide and moist. His own hands hovered over Charles's arm—wanting to touch yet clearly frightened to. Erik didn't tremble, but the stiff way he held his arms revealed his fear just as well. "I…I didn't…"

A roaring burst had Raven's heart shooting up to her mouth, and she threw her body on top of Charles without a second thought.

Erik's chest was pressed against her head and back a second later.

There was another burst, followed by mechanical stuttering and squealing.

Shaky relief filled Raven. She pushed Erik off of her and looked at the plane, smoke billowing from its front.

She had thought the ships were shooting at them. She had thought—

Hank poked himself out of one of the plane's large holes and frantically waved at them. "COME ON!"

The plane jittered, the mechanical noises becoming louder and louder by the second. It seemed more like a bomb about to go off than anything else.

Charles's shifted beneath her arms. Raven snapped her attention back to him, only to discover that Erik was lifting her brother up—pushing her back as he did so.

"Come on," Erik said, words seen on his lips but not heard. He stood straight with Charles in his arms before he moved around her and hurried toward the plane.

Raven scrambled after him. Morbid curiosity had her glancing back at the ocean.

The ships were seeable now, and they were all turning so that they were parallel with the tides. So that their guns were—

Raven faced forward again and angled herself through one of the plane's holes.

Erik was already strapping Charles into a seat, the plane jostling all around them.

Hank was leaning out of the cockpit. He was shouting something—indistinguishable amidst all of the noise—but his hand gesture toward the chairs were clear enough.

Raven went over to the seat behind Charles's and strapped herself in. She glanced between the back of her brother's head and Erik's, who was now strapping himself in.

Oxygen masks bounced out of their compartments, making Raven shriek and jolt.

Again, Hank leaned out of the cockpit and waved his hand around.

The plane—creaking, groaning, burning—slid forward.

Blindly, Raven put the oxygen mask on. Instinct pierced the sheer panic that consumed her, and she leaned forward to help Charles. The straps held tight against her torso, but before she could fret over that, she saw Erik put an oxygen mask over Charles's face.

The plane increased in speed and in volume. It bumped and crashed over sandy terrain, pebbles and water bursting from beneath it every so often.

They were jarred around so violently that Raven was convinced their necks were going to snap. And if that didn't happen, then the increasing heat would kill them.

Everything shook—everything hurt. Raven could barely breathe, none of her senses working properly. She only knew fear as it pulsated through her over and over again, making her heart beat painfully fast.

And then air whipped her face. Her hair whipped wildly about, smacking her face multiple times.

The jarring lessoned more and more until it felt like they were floating, though the pressure in her head somehow made it feel like she was sinking.

She hadn't realized she had caught her breath until the fourth time she panted out air, her eyes owlishly wide and her mouth gaping.

Behind her, something rumbled. A few seconds later, heat and wind burst behind the plane, making it speed through the sky at a faster rate.

The intercom crackled before Armando's voice screeched out, "WE MADE IT! WE MADE IT! WE'RE HOME FREE!"

Hank was clearly crying in the background. Or possibly laughing.


	26. Chapter 26

**Hey guys,**

**The next chapter is just going to be a quick epilogue that will lead into the fanfic's sequel, so we are pretty much finished here! Yay! :D**

**Thank you guys for your reviews, your story-alters-all of it. This was a fun idea to write out, and I am excited to finish working out the sequel (yeah, I'm still working on the outline. :P Started over a few times, so it'll be a little while).**

**Check out _First Class Mutated_'s webpage on tumblr! I can't put the link here (dang ), but just know that is a link to it on my tumblr blog, "Sandy's Write."**

**I wish you all the best. :)**

**Sincerely,**

**Sandy**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

The next few days, they all focused on staying hidden inside the Xavier mansion. The plane—a crumbled shape of twisted metal—had been crashed and abandoned on a beach in Western Connecticut. A few news reporters spoke about theories of stolen planes, drunken pilots, some kind of dangerous hippie-protest…

None of them had any evidence of what really had occurred.

Erik sat on the front steps of the manor's massive and elegant porch. Exhaustion and grief stung his pinkish eyes, his heart pulsating agony throughout his flesh. His entire body, sagging a little, ached from lack of sleep. He kept his gaze focused on the front gates of the property a great distance away.

At first, he had told himself he was being a century of sorts—keeping an eye out for a potential attack. But as it became clearer that no one knew about their existence, much less their location, he couldn't convince himself of the lie anymore.

He just wanted to be outside, away from the people and their minds inside the manor.

Erik breathed heavily through his nostrils, but was otherwise motionless in his slumped state.

Alex's last memories kept leaking back in Erik's brain—lungs burning, terror shredding every ounce of him—

The telepath shut his eyes tight as he struggled to fight against his own powers. He grinded his teeth together, his hand pressing against the side of his head.

_Be quiet_, he growled to himself. _Be quiet._ His hand trembled, fingers quivering over his temple.

Water shooting in his mouth, his nose—searing his eyes—a silent scream—regret—

Gasping, Erik's eyes snapped open and his body stiffened. His blood felt like ice, even as the rest of him felt…hollow. Each inhale brought an onslaught of pain to his chest, each exhale a feeble wheeze.

He focused on the ground, eyes scanning over every little detail. The stray specks of dirt from the flower beds nearby. The crack in the cement path. Anything other than the thoughts and sensations his treacherous mind kept making him relive.

And then there was Charles.

_"He'll be fine," Hank had said. "His brain activity is normal, blood pressure normal. We won't know anything for sure until he actually wakes up, but from what tests I could run, there is nothing physical wrong with him."_

_"Thank God," Raven had choked out, her hand clamped on her unconscious brother's shoulder._

Erik sighed, chest tightening. A slight tinge of rage brushed against his psyche as he remembered Charles's words—remembered Charles using Alex's death to try to manipulate Erik into doing something foolish. It was a disgusting display, one that burned Erik the more he thought about it.

But that was no excuse to actually hurt Charles. And the telepath hadn't meant to do anything, it just…happened. His grief and fury, fueled by Alex's memories, manifested itself through his telepathy and assaulted Charles.

The shapeshifter had been trying to do the right thing. Even if it was in the worst way possible, Charles had only been trying to help. And Erik hurt him.

Erik's hands shook, and he clenched them into fists in order to still them. His nails dug into his palm, the sweet pain a relief. He swallowed thickly and once again focused on the property's front gates—their dark color, elegant shape—

He was so tired of emotions, thoughts, memories, tragedies…if Charles didn't wake up soon, Erik would…

Tears welled up in his eyes and he snarled in protest. Standing up, he heaved out breaths as he walked down the steps away from the manor—farther away from the people inside of it.

Shaw was finally dead. Erik finally got what he had wanted for his entire adult life. And it meant nothing in the wake of Alex's sacrifice and Charles's state.

Gott…why had Erik pushed them?

No, they had needed to be pushed. Shaw needed to be dead, and so did those sailors.

But at this cost?

Erik rubbed his eyes with one hand, sorrow twisting into hot anger—acidic in his veins. His torso ached with the raw need to scream out his anguish and rage.

"Erik."

Erik stopped and twisted back to the front doors.

Raven stood on top of the staircase, her eyes soft and full of relief. "He's awake."

* * *

On Ravel's tail, Erik rushed into the medical wing to discover Hank prodding over blue-skinned Charles, who sat up in the crisp white bed. The shapeshifter massaged the back of his head, his eyes occasionally flicking to Hank. "I really am fine, Hank. Just a small headache."

Hank peeled open Charles's right eyelids apart farther and flashed a small light in them. "You've been unconscious for days; I will determine if you are fine or not."

Charles frowned, but he did not argue again.

As Raven walked over to them, Hank muttered "no concussion" and some other terminology Erik didn't remember the definitions of.

Erik remained by the doorway, discomfort crawling over his skin while guilt froze him in place. He watched as Raven and Charles hugged, Charles rolling his eyes even as he smiled fondly. And then the shapeshifter's gaze landed on Erik.

Charles's surprise flicked Erik's mind before Erik reeled his telepathy back and turned away. His attention just happened to land on the teleporter, Angel, who remained unconscious. Erik's mind gently reached for hers, but there was nothing for him to reach. Just a chilling emptiness.

He had said he would try to heal her, but he had never encountered such—

_Erik._ "Erik," Charles croaked, concern thick in his heavy voice. "Are you alright?"

If Erik had the energy or the will, he would have scoffed—would have mocked Charles for such unwanted sentiment. As it was, Erik's insides constricted so roughly it left him breathless. _Don't ask things like that_, he projected. _Not after everything that has happened._

_I'm sorry_, Charles responded, his shame rushing over Erik. The emotion was so palpable—so poignant—that he knew Charles was apologize for more than just asking a mere question. _I am so sorry._ _I truly am._

"Erik?" Raven said. "What are you even doing over there? Come here." She motioned her hand toward him, a strained kind of amusement radiating off of her.

She forgave him for hurting Charles, but just barely. The fact that she had even done so at all still made no sense to Erik.

"I'm fine," he growled, turning away. "I just need some air." He quickened his pace as Raven and Charles called after him.

_Erik—_

_Charles, stay out of my head right now._

Distantly, Erik heard Raven call out Charles's name, but there was no distress in her tone or her psyche, so Erik didn't think much of it. His shoulders rigid, he focused solely on escaping the manor once again.

Salt water, terror, Erik's vengeance, Shaw's sick mind, regret—

"Erik, wait," Charles's scratchy voice said.

Erik jolted, eyes wide as he stared ahead. As Charles stumbled toward him—bare feet slapping against the wooden floor—Erik's heart twisted. Wanting to berate him for leaving Hank's side so soon, the telepath turned to berate him.

Erik swore his tongue turned to lead, his heart leaping to the base of his throat.

Charles, completely and utterly in his true form, trailed his hand against the wall as he trudged up to Erik. The shapeshifter's emotions were chaotic, but the shame, the fear, the self-loathing, the concern, the care—it had nothing to do with Charles's current form and everything to do with the past few days.

Panting, Charles all but slapped his hands on Erik's shoulders to keep himself steady. "Listen, okay? Please, just listen. I am sorry about everything that happened. I stand by my principles, but I never wanted to hurt you the way that I did. I…I felt it, Erik, and it was wretched of me to make you suffer. Could you ever forgive me?"

Erik balked. The sincerity bled off of Charles like a gaping wound, and it struck the telepath—the undeserving telepath. For a second, Erik couldn't breathe. "Charles—"

"Even if you can't," Charles said quickly, eyes glistening, "please don't feel like you have to leave this place. I…I know it might seem awkward and unpleasant, but there is so much good that be done here. And you…and…" Charles sighed and bowed his head, shaking from side to side. The bitterness and frustration twisted together within Charles's mind. "This is your home, Erik. That is all I mean. Don't let me push you out of it."

"Like you ever could," Erik blurted, stunned and amused.

Charles's eyes snapped back up to him. The shock and relief in the blue face—the way his eyes gleamed…

Erik smiled fondly, warmth filling his chest and soothing away some of the hurt.

Charles smiled. "Oh. Good then. I thought…" He shook his head and straightened, a playful smirk gracing his face. "We would certainly be lost without you my friend."

He snorted. "I doubt that."

"You underestimate your importance here."

Rage, panic, Shaw must die, salt water coursing down a young throat—

Erik closed his eyes tight.

"Erik?"

"You'd be better without me," he rasped. He swallowed thickly—willed his face to stiffen into stoicism—and opened his eyes. Before Charles could protest, Erik continued. "But I need you all." He nearly flinched at the wording, affection withering beneath embarrassment and guilt. "I need Cerebro. I have to find Scott Summers. I…it was Alex's only want."

Charles's eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Of course. We'll do everything we can to find him." _And get this school back on track._

Erik fought back against the urge to glare and turned away. _You're still thinking about your damn school?_

Charles grimaced. _I…I didn't mean for you to hear that._

A sour taste coated Erik's tongue, but rather than argue or scold, he sighed. "Forget it. You should be resting, anyway."

"It's just a headache."

"And a short coma."

"It felt more like a long nap."

"Charles…"

Charles huffed, eyelids lowering and lips quirking upward. "Very well. If you and everyone else insist, I will go lie back down. Even though I've been lying down for days, apparently." He released Erik and pressed one hand against the wall as he turned and headed back for the medical wing. But he didn't take two steps before glancing back with a lowered brow. "Are you sure you are alright?"

Erik smiled. "Of course I'm not, Charles." _Are you?_

_No_, Charles admitted. _But I will be. We all will be._

Erik tried to believe him, but the weighted doubt that pressed upon him refused to let such a faith bloom. Regardless, he nodded at Charles's sentiment.


	27. Epilogue

**Hey guys,**

**It's finally done! :D Yay!**

**Thank you guys for following this fanfic for as long as you have. I appreciate your patience, and this story was fine to write out.**

**I am working on the sequel, but it is not a main priority right now, so it'll probably be a while until I get to posting chapters. So if you don't want to read this little-sequel teaser just yet, no stress. :)**

**As always, I wish you guys all the best. :D**

**Sincerely,**

**Sandy**

* * *

Epilogue

_Los Angeles, 1964_

She listened to the car radio strictly for the music, never for the news or the talk shows or other garbage. Sad that she used to love such things—used to _care_ about such things—but as she drove through the clogged traffic in Los Angeles in search of yet another menial job, Alison Blair's natural enthusiasm for life had withered into a dulled kind of bitterness.

She tapped her fingers over the torn up wheel of the ancient vehicle, her red sunglasses hiding the irritation that flickered in her eyes as she glared at the motionless car in front of her.

The music on the radio was fun, "bouncy" she would call it. And then it ended in abrupt silence, followed by the loud voice of the radio host who was excitedly shouting about the latest conspiracy theory.

Alison groaned, smacking her head back against the cotton seat. Ever since Kennedy was assassinated, it seemed that all anyone wanted to talk about were all of these outlandish conspiracy theories. This had also used to pleased her—excited her, even, but these theories people randomly came up with were all foolish and pointless. The disappointment of realizing this was still a jagged scar on Alison's heart.

Pressing her lips together in a thin line, she reached for the radio to turn it off.

"—sailors are coming out now and saying they saw men perform magical abilities right before their eyes!"

Alison's hand froze over the radio knob.

"One sailor said a man flew and controlled the winds! Another man was said to have grown bug-like wings out of his back! And even another man still had the ability to scream sonic-screams! Are these aliens visiting the planet?! A secret government conspiracy to enhance the human anatomy?!"

As the radio host continued to shout excitedly, Alison let her hand drop to the console. Her eyes widened as hope flared from her dormant bitterness—her exhaustion.

There were…even more?

Ideas twirled in her head, her psyche renewing itself slowly but surely as she thought about this. Without realizing it, her lips curled upward while her eyes glowed a bright red.

"How about that?" she breathed.


End file.
